Lang Syne
by Ten Thousand Ravens
Summary: Fili and Kil fall in the Battle of the Five Armies, only for Thorin to survive. He needed a heir and Bilbo seemed able to give him that...*Fem Bilbo*
1. Chapter 1

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**All rights go to J.R.R Tolkien, I own nothing.**

The line of Durin had been broken.

There in the hall of Erebor, viewing his vast length of riches, stood a king without a heir. King Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror Oakenshield. He had survived the Battle of the Five armies, bruised and battered, but alive, for neither Azog now his spawn, Bolg could defeat the dwarf. His heirs, his sister's sons, did not share the same faith. They died shielding him and for that, he honored them and their courage, now with their bodies buried beneath the rich soil east of the mountain and among old Ravenhill, for it had a merry view on the Running River and what the desolation of the dragon, though in time its memories and it remains would pass.

The Mountain was reclaimed and Dale as well, for the king fulfilled his promise after the battle. Though he did it in grimness, he gave away all of Girion's jewels and riches to Bard, now King of Dale, who spread it to his friend, Thranduil the Elvenking (a spiteful choice that altered Thorin into fumes) and to the Master of the men of the Lake, to rebuild their town that had fallen.

What was left for Thorin turned him to fear.

All the wealth, robbed of him once and once attempted, could slip away and into the hands of the undeserving without a heir. Had he fallen into the embrace death during the battle with his nephews, who would have claimed what was rightfully his grandfather's, now his? Dain, perhaps, but how long could he have protected it from greedy men?

And as he pondered, he did not realize a figure lurking in the shadow.

He drew his hand to Orcrist and called out to the darkness, "Who goes there? Show yourself."

And by his command out came Bilbo, her common hobbit locks of vivid brown twisted into a braid, revealing a complexion darkened by age and dirt. She was fifty, Thorin believe, or close to that, but he never cared to ask. For now he only removed his hand and greeted her. "My Lady Baggins, I thought you had bid farewell to this place and was returning to your home," he said.

"I….I was just saying farewell….to Fili and Kili." She cleared her throat, swaying back and forth upon her heels. "Balin told me there will be a great feast tonight and you will honor them and their courage."

"You will not stay?"

"No….I must really be getting back. Who knows what the Sackville - Bagginses will have to say when I return!" Every hobbit in Hobbiton probably would frown upon her, oh how she thought of what Bungo Baggins thought of his daughter from the grave after her adventure. And for that she chuckled.

"Then I part you with my friendship," Thorin said, a hand over her breast to represent honor. "You have proven to be a most worthy burglar. And I am sorry I ever doubted you."

They exchanged a brief goodbye and Bilbo attempted to depart.

"Wait," said the dwarven King and the hobbit twirled around. "Please, stay and feast with us. Honour my nephews and drink to our victory,"

Bilbo had been weary from walking and walking and war and her stomach had been growling for hours. She had done what Gandalf had said and tightened her holster around her waist, for she has lost a vast amount of weight since she left her hobbit - hole, if you remembered happen months ago, though felt longer for the hobbit. A feast would be nice, so would an hour to rest her feet. So she didn't decline.

…

Beer and meat and bread was plenty. It tingled all their tongues to taste something other than cram.

Now Bilbo felt like a hobbit again, with a stomach full of food.

And then Thorin toasted his nephews, his company and their strength and they drank to battles to come. Once all satisfied, they leaned back in their chairs with grins upon their faces and then they retrieved their instruments and played a dark, serenity tune and sang to their victory, while some stayed back and lit their pipes.

Bilbo found herself releasing rings of smoke, larger than she had ever made and she had always been quite good at this. But Thorin, with a pipe in his mouth, blew one larger than hers and she was enthralled by it and yet a little envious. And this feel and her self competition continued on almost through the night. But now weariness had taken her.

Bilbo was half listening, half asleep dreaming of her hobbit - hole and her books, and the fireplace, flickering embers, producing a warm flow of air. She smiled to the thought. Home was calling her.

"Do was bored you, Miss Baggins?" inquired Thorin, his fingers halting their movement upon his harp.

" Oh no, no, no!" she protested. "Pray continue!"

So they took up their song once more and another hour went by. The dwarves were weary and Bilbo had already plummeted into a deep sleep.

Thorin came to his feet and lifted the hobbit off of her chair and carried her away to his chamber where she would sleep for hours upon cotton sheets and fur blankets. Heavenly, she slept and for that Thorin grinned. He leaned in closely, catching a whiff of her warm breath. And he gave a quick kiss to her forehead, sweeping his fingers through her brown locks.

"May I tell you something?" she asked, with her eyes remaining shut and sleep fastly taking her.

"Yes, pray tell," said Thorin.

"Back….uh, back in Mirkwood forest, when I climbed up the tree to find the sun and I saw the Lonely Mountain, a part of me asked myself if I would go back…." she whispered. "To Hobbiton, I mean. If I would ever go back to it…..and if I wanted to."

"It is your home," he said.

"Yes...yes it is. But perhaps Gandalf was right, perhaps I am not the same hobbit who left Hobbiton. Perhaps I was meant for more….more than books and dollies."

"Then stay."

And Bilbo said she would consider it and finally, the next morning she had chosen to linger in the mountain. In time a jaunt home, but until then, she would stay.


	2. Chapter 2

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* * *

The chamber given to Bilbo was small and foul, nothing that could conquer her hobbit hole, but she found the beauty in it after several readjustments. And after an hour of doing so, she finally could hang Sting, slink out of her navy coat and set the seed she had retrieved from Beorn's garden on her bed side table. She had wished to plant it on the outskirts of her home in Bag End, the left side so everytime she glanced outside her windows she would catch a glimpse of it.

But her home did not belong in Hobbition anymore. Perhaps one day she would return, though the thought was never occupying Bilbo's mind, she was more anxious to think of how the Sackville - Baggins were already claiming her home.

She thought she would bury the seed in the warm soil on Ravenhill, next to Fili and Kili's graves, but she would have to wait until spring for winter's arrival had been swift.

So consumed by thought Bilbo had not taken regard to Thorin's arrival.

"Come here, Bilbo," he said, "I've been needing to speak you."

And the hobbit found this abnormal for she had found Thorin's behavior appalling. He appeared distant, distracted with a wandering mind. She assumed it to be grief, but now her senses begun to darken.

Nonetheless, she lingered behind and he inquired if she was pleased with her stay. Bilbo, of course, answered, but felt there was something he was tempted to say, though hesitant to. Not until they reached his throne, a sea of gold and gems below them, that Thorin spoke his desired words.

"Is it not beautiful? Endless lengths of gold beyond measure," he murmured in a low tone. "But I fear what it will become now without my nephews. It will fall in the hands of corrupted humans, elves, other races that roam Middle Earth. No longer will it be Thror's gold."

Bilbo agreed and expressed her agreement. Yet the thought of Thorin's death and abandoning his grandfather's riches was not fond.

"Without a heir, my kingdom will fail. I'd imagine it would be given to my sister's son," he said, the sharpness of his tone sinking. For a moment the past begun to creep up on him. Thorin fell to a daze, leaving Bilbo to wait and wondered. But finally, he turned towards her and stepped forth. "Will you Bilbo, help me claim what I have lost, once more?"

She cleared her throat, merely appealed by the gesture, though more fearful of it, and steadily rebounded. "Thorin….I -." She began to stammer as he reeled in closer. "I….I am truly flattered, but I am only a hobbit, I am no dwarf. And….and I am much too old for such things."

Fifty she already was.

"You are fair, Lady Baggins, and have proven yourself upon my journey. I could not find anyone more suitable."

Bilbo bowed her head in dismay.

Her answer came quickly, without a doubt, though her gloom protested her from saying it. She had already followed him through many perils and he was in more of her debt than she was in his. She did owe him anything and both had acknowledge though.

But now Thorin's patience were draining, for you know Thorin's patience were thin at times like any dwarf, "What say you!" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," whispered Bilbo, mustering and searching for lost strength. "I'm sorry but I can't…."

Thorin's lip quivered with fury and she perceived he would pounce on her if she lurked in his vision any longer. He resisted and a silence descended until he spoke once more. "Then go…..dwell in your chamber until my kingdom is no more and have Erebor robbed of us once again."

Bilbo inched forth to speak once more, to perhaps mend the tension but Thorin only scowled so she rebounded. She said another hushed apologize and retreated, leaving him in his fumes and concealed dismay.

She never wanted to jeopardize the future of Erebor, but neither did she want to produce a heir for that tainted gold. She feared the Dragon Sickness, not for herself, but for Thorin. The gold he emotionally embraced had impaired him once before, it seemed as if an ounce of it still linger in him.

Generation after generation, king after king had been affected by it, what would make their child any different?

…..

Night was emerging and everyone in the mountain had retrieved themselves in their chamber for a long nights rest. You would never find one wondering about, not anyone at all, save Bilbo, not that anyone could see her. Hobbits had always been blessed with incredible stealth and she praised herself for it as she shuffled down the halls and pass mutable doors leading into mutable chambers.

But she was not looking for her own at the moment, though feeble and weary her mind was set on a quest, a quest to find Thorin.

He was not in the throne room, which Bilbo half - assumed he would be. But seeing the sun forlorn, she traveled to his chamber, the grandest of them all for after all he was the king and rapped upon the door.

Thorin's answer was gradual, making Bilbo wait impatiently, pattering her foot against the floor and sighing every second.

"What do you want?" scowled the dwarf. Declining his request, then interrupting his soon to be slumber, how dare that scanty hobbit.

"I...I wanted to speak to you," she said, softly. "Pray, let me come in."

He allowed it, though not without a long thought, but finally he stride to the side and ushered her in.

"Thorin, about your request -."

"I do not have time for your apologies."

"No, no, no….that's not why I came. I came to tell you, I thought about it." She paused for a second time, inquiring mentally if it was the proper thing to do. "Can….can you guarantee it will work?"

Thorin's head steadily shook. "But I will not ride off a chance. I must try."

And why she did next was found to be unexpected by both.

She came forth and agreed to help. though hoping it would not work.


	3. Chapter 3

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Bilbo's neck tingled by the warm sensation of Thorin's breath. At first she winced by it, where he would exchange a moan of delight and proceed to kiss her harder. There she lolled, stiff like a board, with him thrusting forth, his lips lining kisses on her neck. A part of her felt like she was dead being so still and here she laying in her coffin. So uncomfortable and tense. Of course she did not to spectate Thorin losing Erebor for another time and she valued his friendship and her feelings for him were strong, but this felt like she was sacrificing too much. A child, a heir, could she even produce one, she had to wonder. She never even thought of Thorin being fond of children.

Would she be forced to carry and raise it, but have it be snatched away when Thorin was on death's door?

Absurd but rather possible.

She had feared this and many other things since Thorin had given her the request. Terror was now her friend along with thought. She dare not ask him any of her questions though, she did wield enough trust for him to expect a genuine answer.

"Are you alright?" asked Thorin, rebounding off her.

"No, no, no," she protested, her tone quickened by nerves. "I….Thorin, is….is this really what you want? I am no dwarf, I cannot guarantee you anything."

He stroked her brown locks, his fingers swimming through them, as her words faded. He had not cared to listen to them.. "You are strong, my lady. You have proven to be of great use. I could not ask for anyone better to provide me with a son," he reassured and resumed his position to kiss her once again.

Bilbo stopped him with an emerging frown.

"A….a son? Why would you think we would have a son?"

"A son of Durin. It is only right. A Prince of Erebor, he shall be."

"And if it's not?"

Thorin's expression of bliss altered into a vacant stare, that made her wince again and compress farther down on her pillow. Avoiding his pore had now felt impossible, no direction she shifted her head would pardon her from it..

He concealed his fumes well, provoked by her evening to dare think they would not have a son. But it washed away swiftly, as his smirk enlarged and he whispered, "Do not think such things. You shall give me a son for my my wealth, Lady Baggins. Do not doubt yourself."

And again he leaned in closer, to where their bodies brushed against one another, and his breath sent a wave down her spine. His lips embraced her firmly as he continued to groan and she released soft whimpers that went unheard by him.

Her mind had wandered away once again, sullied by the thoughts of what was to come.

Oh how she mentally weeped by her ponder. And how Bilbo wished this night would end in failure.

It didn't.

()

Spring was emerging.

Soon the memory of the cold, wintery gray would forlorn and warmth would be casted upon the world.

She imagined what was stirring up in Bag End from this, already her neighbors must be setting their minds on producing the best of gardens. Hers had always put envy in their eyes.

But now she did have the strength to ponder what hers would become, she had not even found a proper place to put it. A part of her was descending into an oblivion of dismay, differing from her usual self, a little on the stern side, but still had the means to smile. She had not smiled in a while. She had been actively dwelling in her chambers and though the dwarves frowned upon it and invited her to join them in their jaunts, she protested to participate. She had become prone to sickness, each morning awaking in a nauseous state.

Coincidence, at first she believed, but it prolonged. And then her appetite grew, well enlarged actually, for a Hobbit's true passion is only focused on food. But this was different, much more different and they all perceived it.

Thorin was the first to heed the changes. He seemed pleased by them, for this was what he had wished to see.

Bilbo was not.

Apprehension was building in her.

She had been certain that this was to not work, she would not wield a dwarven child, she could not. Doubt perhaps lingered, but she could quickly, mentally deny it.

It will not work, it cannot work, she thought and then forced herself into one of her dresses. Her clothes had become tighter. Her stomach was beginning to swell. But she did not wish for eye upon it, so she concealed it with her shaw. I've just been less active, she continued to think, for in denial she was.

For all this ponder she did not realize Thorin slink in, viewing his flustered lover. The ounce of concern in him was eased by his satisfy to view the sight of her bump peering through her clothes.

He stride up to her and drew her closer, this now provoking a larger grin. And she flinched, he set his hand upon her stomach , feeling what he assumed to be his future son. Now gazing through her eyes, softly, though smoothly he whispered something to her in his dwarvish tongue, words unknown to Bilbo.

She wished to ask him what he had said.

She was interested, curious as well and she had never been this hushed before. But hesitation brought her tongue to a halt. A part of her wished not to know what he had said.

So she didn't ask, she just stood there, still as stone, before she gulped down her nerves. Yet they would not go down.


	4. Chapter 4

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_"Here ends your filthy bloodline."_

_ She pondered those words, though never wondered how she understood them. Black speech was not fond to the ears of the pure. His words were impaired, equally marred to his vision, as he stood high in the tower, viewing down at them being only specks. But he perceived their fear and it provoked a grin upon his face, as he released Fili from his blade and had him descend to the world below. And he collided with a soft thud, concealed by the cry and protest of his uncle who no longer stood still._

_ In an approached he dashed, his steps swift and trembling, with Dwalin following inches behind, though she lingered. She had never seen such dismay._

_ Never such death._

_ For a moment she did not acknowledge her surroundings, all she could do is stride around, drawing her hand to Sting's handle and heaving it out with a hushed whoosh. Was that throbbing ache emerging closer from the heartbreak of witnessing a friend of her fall into the oblivious embrace of death? Or perhaps to see someone she grown fond of, even, though she would not admit it, loved spectate such peril?_

_ "Thorin," she whispered, before collapsing to her knees. That scorch of agony had enhanced. It was growing near , seizing her whole body into a quiver. But she could not release a wince to ease it, or to have it gain the attention of her departed companions. She could only say his name, a vast size breath between each other. "Thorin…Thorin…Thorin." _

"Bilbo…Bilbo, wake up."

The voice retrieved from her deep slumber and Thorin slipped into view between her eyes that were now merely closed they looked like slits. He was seated with his back in an angle, his woe expression gazing upon her as one hand slept in hers and the other dandled through her curls.

She winced.

Not for that stare lolling upon her, but for the throbbing feel still occurring at her stomach. She compressed her head farther down against her pillow, releasing a yelp of distress. Memories of a fair nights rest had become so distant, despite they existed only three months ago. She swallowed hard to imagine the next six months.

"Can I tempt with you cup of tea, lassie?" she heard a familiar voice ring out, rather pleased to hear that sound of Azog rapping in her ears, as she glanced to Dori. She had not realized his presences lingered so close, though it was understandable considering her heed had wandered to other places.

"No…no, that's alright," she protested.

"Get her a cup, Dori," Thorin replied, despite the deny and met with her scolding pore. "Look at you, you're tired; weak."

"I'm fine," said Bilbo, shuffling herself on her stack of pillows. She had never been acquaintances with such comfort, though her Hobbit hole did provide her with some of it. "Just a bit tight. And swollen." Her words were faint and hushed, even as she continued on. "I was having a nightmare."

Thorin's head steadily fall to his shoulder, not very enthralled yet allowed her to continue.

"It…it was about that day….during the battle."

But her words came to a halt as his fingers encircled around hers, firm enough they may have turned white and he said, with a reassuring grin emerging across his face, "Do not worry on such things. The future of Durin lies within you. Now are walls will forever be safe."

Words were left unsaid as they remained in a locked position, though she was tempted to speak. A thought was on her tongue and she was ready to release it, but she found herself, as she normally had been, held back from speaking for their moment was interrupted.

"Thorin," said Dwalin, enter her chambers without a rap upon the door. How impolite she found it to be. But it would not matter for what Dwalin said next stole her breath away. "Gandalf is here, requesting to see you."

Bilbo's eyes shifted back to him, half – expecting to see him infected by joy as well,. It wasn't.

His expression had altered vacant, without emotion he appeared to gaze away from her eyes and simply nothing. For a implausible moment he sat with a slouch in his back, before excusing himself, though before thought he gripped Dori's arm and drew him in. "Do not let her leave," he demanded and emerged into the corridor. And Thorin paced himself, almost as if he was hesitant to meet with his elder acquaintance, for he was. But as long as the topic of Bilbo showed no power in the conversation, he would be fine, he assured himself. So he encountered the wizard, with a much more appealing greet than he had given him before and they talked, exchanging stories and talking of tales and adventure.

It was lik e the night in Bag End, while all other dwarves had their attention grasped by other things, they were sharing words.

But then the dire question came.

"Tell me, where is my burglar?" inquired Gandalf.

"She is at rest," he replied, not much of a lie though Gandalf was curious to hear his tone turn so swift.

"Yes…well then, I shall not wake her. Give her my best."

"You will not stay?" Thorin was relieved.

"I am needed else where, but I shall return in time."

The anxiety of the dwarf king was now settling into oblivion. He did not have time to waste for wizards, especially one like Gandalf, and he did not wish to expose his private business either. He had imagined the words that would slip from his tongue if he saw Bilbo's current state.

Thorin didn't need to imagine it.

"Gandalf," a voice squeaked from behind and all eyes were drawn to the Hobbit cowering away in the shadows.

A look unseen before was painted across Thorin's face and for a moment, it was undetectable. They would not realize quick enough to know it was fear.

"My dear Bilbo Baggins!" he greeted, his tone raised from excitement. "Well, it has been quite a long time."

"Yes…yes it has." And trekked closer, to where her figure was not sullied by the dimness and his view of her was no longer foul. "Uh…..Thorin and I have something we've been meaning to tell you."

She didn't need to. Thorin had already caught his observing eyes and the fumes awakening in him.


	5. Chapter 5

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"Fool!" declared the wizard, approaching the occupied throne. "You would not only led your kingdom into such peril, but my burglar along with it."

Thorin had never been a witness to such fumes from Gandalf. The wizard was bolshie, but not bitter, he wise enough not to grow so angry. But now his temper was flaring and he did not care to resist showing it. And only to provoke it, there Thorin sat, a firm position and vacant stare, not retrieving the fear in his words. So Gandalf resumed his lecture. "You will not only bring the death or your heir, but of her as well."

The words did not appall Thorin enough to give a retort.

Inquires were settling in the minds of those who had assembled in the throne room, Dwalin and Balin being two. Balin was not timid and maybe not as loyal enough as his brother resist to come forth and ask, "Thorin, what is he saying?"

"What I am saying, Master Dwarf, is the carrying of his heir will kill Bilbo. A Hobbit does not have the strength to wield a dwarven child," he said and not loosening his tone. "She will find only death if she is not treated properly."

Dwalin's head bowed in shame and Balin came an inch closer. Set with a question on his tongue once again, he was not as hesitant to ask it.. "Is there anything we can do?"

"The survival of Bilbo is slim, but there is a chance," he reassured. "I possibly could save her."

"In this way of saving her you would kill my son?" Thorin sprung from his seat, engulfed by fumes as his brow curled like caterpillars and his lips trembled.

"Neither of them will survive, if I do try."

"Steadily, he stepped down the stairs that was a barrier between him and the wizard. He revealed no fear, only a tranquility that seemed to ease him companions over. "It is only a myth...a legend. A dwarf has not bred with a hobbit in a mere century."

"You are more of a fool than you have ever been if you believe that." Gandalf's sigh was broad, heavy and without a doubt caused by the frustration of dwarves. "We can still spare her from what is to come."

"And what will spare my kingdom from the greed of men? The wraith of elves and orcs? The desires of dragons?" he inquired, holding fast to his ground. "I will not watch Erebor suffer one again."

Gandalf did produce an answer, considering he could not find on at the moment. He came closer, appearing tempted by the words settling on his tongue but Thorin had already returned to his throne and steadily he shifted his glare towards the wizard and he whispered, "Go now. You are no longer welcomed here."

Gandalf took his leave, hesitant and livid to do so. In time he would return despite the foul words of the king, he would just need return with a way to pardon Bilbo from her death, if Thorin was not to come to his senses to do so.

For the dwarf, he spoke to both Dwalin and Balin, his tone forbidding and his pace brief, warning both now to speak of this to Bilbo or any other dwarf dwelling in the halls.

A new month was prevailing, a new spring already flourishing, but Bilbo still dwelled behind walls. She did not want to see Bag End anytime soon, but neither did she wish to see the sleek walls of her chamber everyday.

Is it spring already, she wondered, where the gardens being tended to and the Great Mill spinning once again in the Shire?

She imagined them in her mind, but quickly shook them off as soon as they came. She did not want to waste time on pondering what may have been.

For now the daily nuisance of her and Thorin's growing child was occupying her mind, despite Thorin's best effort to make her contented. The dwarves too strived to ease her, though their help was rather lacking, but still, she was grateful for it. Dwalin and Gloin she never expected much from, yet ironically it was Balin who seemed somewhat distant. When he encountered her, he would sigh deep with dismay and ambling away shaking his head. Bilbo queried but it was no use.

"There would be no shame in turning back now, lassie," assured the elderly dwarf one day.

Bilbo sprung from it, finding it a rather unforeseen. "I can't really now," she said, placing her hand on her stomach.

Gradually Balin's hand descended to her shoulder and he squeezed it with a bit of strength. He forced a wounded smile, only to provoke her perplexity more as he said, "And for that I am sorry." Unspoken words salted his tongue, he wanted to express the coming faith of her and her child and he would of, if it was not for the sudden interruption.

He was the one now leaping in wonder as their eyes fall to the doorway, where Thorin stood, praising himself mentally for catching the dwarf in time. He merely forced Balin out with verbal strength and a sully glare that Bilbo took heed upon quickly though feared questioning little use.

But his frown distorted into a look of bliss, as he set his eyes to her.

"You look weary...exhausted, " he observed.

She bowed her head in dismay, which he boost up as soon as it descended.

"Rest, you are no use to yourself or my son in this state." He reached out towards her, fondling at her bump. ""Thradin."

""Thradin?" she virtually spat, though she did not mean to miff Thorin in anyway.

"It is the name I have chosen for him." Soon the dwarf discerned her vacant look he mislead as an insult against his choice. "You do not like it?"

"No, no, no," protested Bilbo, withdrawing several steps away. "I...I never knew much about dwarven names."

"He will be king one day. He cannot hold a hobbit name."

Her chortles was soft and laugh. "Even if he is half hobbit."

"None save the ones in these halls shall know."

Again she delivered another titter, pondering how absurd he would appear if he retained the same appearance characteristics of a dwarf and a hobbit. Absurd, truly absurd, she thought. But sniggers were soon interrupted by a sharp rap of pain.

It was sudden, it always had been, yet it seemed so constant.

She seized her stomach, wincing with every stroke of agony as she almost collapsed to the foot of bed, just in time for Thorin to draw her near in his arms.

"Bilbo...what is it?" he asked, trying to remain tranquil as he gradually brought them both to their knees. The torement was too gripping that it devoured her ability to speak. "Oin!"

Bastard must not having his trumpet with him.

"Oin!" he called once again and his booming tone, echoing through the stone walls, then produced the company of his dwarven friends, one being Oin who heaved his way through.

And for a moment, a revelation struck Thorin.

Gandalf was right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello.**  
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"You seem better," Thorin observed, leading Bilbo through another narrow corridor, so vast in length in felt everlasting to her. But it did contradict his statement, she appeared well, in a more appealing condition than Thorin had witnessed in the last several months.

Perhaps Oin's remedies had proven their strength or perhaps Gandalf was wrong.  
"A bit stiff better...but better," she greed, tempted to ask where he was ushering her off to. Though the inquiry lolled on her tongue, she found something else to address. "Thorin...doesn't Balin seem different to you? He's not himself. And the other dwarves have come to suspect it too."

Thorin sigh was broad as he turned to her, a fume filled look upon his face that was diminishing to vacant. "Do not waste your time on him. He had been led by disillusion."

It was not a content responds for Bilbo, nothing that eased her quivering apprehension. And was tempted to speak out, continue on with her interrogation, but Thorin hushed her.  
They had arrived.

Drawing the door open they had halted in front of, it revealed a room smaller than Bilbo's chamber, but furnished more properly.

The north wall upon entrance was lined with bookcases that concealed them, familiar with the east one. The south wall was barren, unoccupied by the banners that draped on the west wall. Banners that stretched far out, with a crimson red, its gold tussles sweeping against the sleek flooring and centralized in embroidery a raven. It was identical to any raven looming around Erebor, fully black that it could hide in an obscurity without being noticed. And its eyes pierced into your soul, consuming your ponder.

It didn't appeal to Bilbo, but not enough to steal her heed upon the wooden crib in the core of the room. And positioned next to it, an armchair, one her eyes had thought they had grown too accustom to dwarven furniture to remember the image of one.

"They may not be your books in Bag End, but they'll suit you." Bilbo peered over her shoulder to see Thorin approaching, now realizing how far she had advanced into the room. "Most were Ori's. He shares the same fondness for books as you."

"Thorin...I cannot accept this."

"It is a token of my gratitude. You have done much for me, Bilbo Baggins. It may not be your hobbit hole, but it will be your home."

They exchanged a brief set of grins, Bilbo seem to be resiting tears. "...Thank you," she finally breathed.

He drew her closer to him, settling his head upon hers. He had never seen her excitement prosper so quickly, it was already flaring in her eyes. So his lips leaned down and embraced her forehead.

Ignorance was bliss for the moment.

()

"Thorin, we must tell her," Balin pressed.

"She has come to suspect things already," Dwalin said, aiding his brother's wishes.

But Thorin would not hear of it. Most of his retorts were a shake of the head or a glare, nothing more verbal than a 'no'.

"Aye. The lassie is clever enough to know something is wrong. She's been asking all of us." All eyes held to Oin.

They had not wanted to provide Gandalf's words to anyone but the three of them, but Oin quickly took heed, faster than the others. He after all had tended to her the most.

"Do not waste my time on ridiculous words of the wizard!" he merely scowled to Balin. "Both her and my son will be fine."  
Oin bowed his head, which quickly captured the heed of everyone in the room. His expression spoke for him, but Dwalin still need to ask, "Well she be fine?"  
A silence occurred in the room, reeling back the fear.

"Oin?" said Thorin.

He shook his head and released a sigh. "I don't know, lad."

"Than Gandalf was right," Balin said.

"He wasn't," denied Thorin.

"Right about what?"

Thorin sprung and the others crooked their head to the door. He should have known by now how meek and cunning with their stealth hobbits where.

"Bilbo..." Thorin rushed into her, set to usher her out. "You should be resting."

"Wh...what, no, Thorin, what were you saying?" She shifted her gaze to Balin. "What about Gandalf?"

On the verge of almost heaving her out of the room, Thorin perceived Balin reaching his side, now to expose everything. He tried to stop him, but Balin was already speaking.

"Both you and the babe are sick, lassie. A terrible illness and there is a chance neither of you can make it." Balin looked to side and caught a sully pore frozed upon him.

Bilbo rebounded, awkwardly gawpking upon each til his eyes met Thorin's. One hand plummeted to her stomach, the other slinked into her pocket. "You knew?"

Thorin did doubt her words were dedicated to him.  
"No," he said shaking his head.

"There is nothing we can do now," resumed Balin, endabling Thorin's anger for him. "I'm afraid."  
"Do not listen to him," Thorin warned. "It is only lies."

But Bilbo would not listen, her mind was occupied by more things than this. Vexed and confused, she could merely hear their words. She saw through her wide open eyes Thorin's approach, it was swift and aimed towards her and again fear raised in her. She did not have time to think.

Her fingers dashed and searched in her pocket, the downy fabric brushing against them. Until they collided with a smooth feel and her fear plummeted down.

And the dwarves fear begun.

She vanished within seconds, not even leaving behind a shadow.

"Bilbo!" Thorin cried out once again, his tone deep enough now to assemble a crowd. He did not wait for that though, he exited the throne room and traveled down barren corridors, calling out her name, but all her call attracted with Bofur, with Bifur not far behind and in a short distance, Ori and Dori talking.

"Bofur, where is she?" he inquired and the dwarves sprung to their feet.

"Who?" His brow roused.

Thorin was too plagued by anger and fear to answer without a yell, so Dwalin lifted the burden of replying and did it himself.

"Well she passed by a while ago, coming to see you." Now their conversation had lured the others from where they sat.

They exchanged questions and glances until Balin hushed them and Thorin demanded they find her.  
She did not need to be found, they realized.

A wail vibrated the halls, echoing through the walls and slipping into the outside world. The people of Dale could have heard it if they had stopped to listen. But for now the dwarves heard it and they followed its trail; down the corridor, turning left and descending down to the pile of gold below, where she lolled, crying out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello.**

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* * *

Cries and whimpers drew the dwarves near, Thorin at led. He leaned in towards, his mind cautions not to step in the pool of blood emerging around her, and he reached out only for her to withdraw.

Bilbo now was watching with apprehension near. She felt like a wounded animal in the eyes of her predator. Though escaping seemed in the oblivion, she still had the power sapping away from her to crawl farther way and enough courage mustered to say, "No! Stay back...! Don't come any closer!"

"We're only trying to help you." Bofur showed his way through the crowd, seeming as equally confused, but the most sympathetic

.  
There she sat, clutching her swollen stomach with her night gown marred with blood that was flowing out onto the gold, slinking through every slot. She was whimpering, though it was unknown from of fear or genuine pain. And though her mind was impaired by it and current revelations, she acknowledged Bofur's words. Now her movement had halted, unlike the sweat beads forging into a crown upon her hairline. and her beating chest.

Bofur took forth, hurling the source of conflict out of the way to where only Bilbo could see him. "At least let us get you back into your chambers," he offered and the others agreed, save Thorin, with their nods.

Content enough to let down her guard, Bilbo stopped resisting, until she met the cool eyes of Thorin piercing into her.

"No! No...you're lying. You all lied to me!" she cried, the throbbing her stomach advancing.

"What she say, laddies?" asked Oin who stood without his trumpet and only with impaired ears.

"She said we lied to her, brother," replied Gloin.

"What's wrong with her?" inquired Ori only to have his brother draw him to his side.

They could have wasted the whole day with their query, they had already prolonged it enough for Thorin's liking. He merely shoved them aside as he made his way to her. "They knew nothing of the matter," he assured. "We swore not to tell you to protect you. Pray, come, let us take you back to your chamber."

Still motionless, Thorin proceed closer in and reached out his hand. "Please, Bilbo."

Though her fingers quivered and head was dropping low, she took up the hand that raised her up, with the help of Dwalin. Equally her weight on both of their shoulders, they moved steady upon the stairs, a pace that would not spare Thorin seeing Balin's stare of dismay. He only shifted his attention back to Bilbo, half glancing at the others. "Summon the healer from Dale.," he demanded, for even in this case he could not help but doubt Oin's healing abilities.

They escorted Bilbo back to her chambers, tempting to make her relax though all tried failed. Her moans and screams never died throughout the day.

The healer's arrival was drawn out, awakening the fumes in them all. He was a man who equaled up to odd in every aspect, his pace and his appearance, his words and his stare. Thorin expected little out of man, he was contradicting have thought in his head allowing the man into his halls, but Bilbo and his son would meet their death if they were not provided with proper care. The situation was merely greater with delicacy than their emotions, especially Bilbo who didn't want to see Thorin at the time or any dwarf for that matter.

"I apologize, King Thorin," said the healer, his tone low and heavy as he empathized every pronunciation in every word. "I do not think I could spare both. Your wife -"

"She is not my wife," he corrected.

"Nevertheless. She has a lost a vast amount of blood," murmured the man his stare sullying, as if it was not already stone like. "She is too weak for me to induce."

"She was not due for six more weeks," he pressed.

"If the child is not removed she will die and he along with her. It may be their only chance of survival. I am impressed by her strength to last this long." He paused, his words purpose to give hope, to deceive him in believing the chances of survival were slim. "We must try..."

"I cannot risk this...I will not," replied the dwarf.

"There is nothing left to do."

The verbal battle would have dragged into the night, but didn't, for Thorin finally allowed the header to proceed.

()

The king was advancing into another round of pacing the corridor, adding to his count of merely one hundred laps. The dwarves insist he recuperate by taking a seat, perhaps return to his chamber and rest his heavy burden mind, maybe even a rough drink that would crackle on his tongue. But he refused all requests, nothing could content Thorin's vexation at the moment.

He only seemed to acknowledge the others when it came to questioning the wait.  
Her cried had fade with the growing obscurity and all had yet to decide whether or not it was a good or bad thing. Had it been a bad thing, how come they were not alarmed? Surely the barren sounds provide some hope...

"King Thorin." The healer's words were matched at the same speed of his steps. He seemed amused with delivering a final ounce of suspense.

"Are they alright?" questioned Thorin, not loosening his stern tone.

The dwarves sprung from their positioned.

As the man shuffled forth, the dim sight of him altered into more than a blur, along with the blanketed object in his arms. It provoked all into grins, cleansing them of their worry and trembling hands.

"A boy," replied the healer, somewhat stiff though the events of today had drained most of his energy. So steadily he slinked the bundle into Thorin's embracing arms and spoke of concern. "He is weary. Might I suggest you let him rest for a few weeks. And summon me if his condition weakens."

"Thrandin," breathed Thorin, gazing down at his son, those bright blue eyes terrorizing his emotions. His hand stroked those black locks as a smile emerged. His mind was consumed with bliss, the worry now melting away.

"What about Bilbo?" asked Ori, a question on all their minds, save Thorin.

The healer descended into silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello.**

**Thank you Fire and Ash, Alonia143, ALIASMOTH - gothic wonder, Irishmadhatter3 (May I ask, Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland or awesome Mad Hatter Batman villain?), MissKim2b, lectrice en herbe, animeluvr4everndalwayz2014, alphageek, and Illusion of Maya for either following or favoriting. You guys are the best!**

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* * *

A day had pass since Thrandin's arrival and already Thorin had embedded all his hopes in him. Now spoiled with success, Thorin felt immune to failure. His future was set in stone, he would be king under the mountain until his passing, which would not be anytime soon for any enemies of his was either dead or distant, and Thrandin would rise to the throne.

So there he stood, no longer in dismay, cradling the boy within his arms as he looked out to the vast wealth of his kingdom. The hills of gold shimmered in his eyes. He would not be defeated ever again. His fortress would linger for eternity, he assumed.

"I did not expect you to come back so soon," he said low and bitterly, miffed to be interrupted at such a time. He did not need to turn around, he recognized the sound of their growing presences well enough, but still he did.

"That you expected wrong." Gandalf's weight rested upon his staff as his aggravation rested in his tone. "Word of the arrival of a new heir has spread. But what became of my burglar in all this? Where is my hobbit?"

"What makes you think I would tell you?" asked Thorin.

Gandalf leaned farther down on his staff, setting all weight upon it for he could bear both it and his emotions. Silence rising, he steadily shifted his back to Thorin and muttered the words out, "She is dead then..."

Growing more timid and vexed, Thorin stood motionless even with Thrandin's tiny fingers reached out for him with a downy coo. Aggravation had been seen in the wizard before, even fury and occasionally glee, but never dismay. Thorin thought he could have gone a lifetime without seeing it, but with the death of someone so fond to him pondering his mind, he had fell to gloom.

"You owe much to her..." was all he could muster to say. "We all did."

Was those quivering lips? A low, sour tone?

Thorin was keen of the bond between the two, its power unbreakable despite circumstances, but he did not think it could expose such a side from Gandalf. He could have said more, he felt the need to, but his tongue was weak. Even as his mind urged him to, Gandalf had already advanced to the end of the hall and Thrandin seemed more colicky. So when Gandalf had took a complete leave, Thorin removed himself from the treasury and to Thrandin's chamber where he put his son down for a rest, he knew Oin would take a quick jaunt over to check on him.

He lingered for a moment, mentally boosting and admiring the child, self - satisfied with his creation. But Thrandin deserved sleep, so he departed and trekked down the hall, his moves revealing hesitation, doubting to continue to his destination. Though something was piercing in his mind, an inquiry that would not stop its ponder until it was answered, so he mustered strength to enter into Bilbo's room.  
He wished for an unoccupied chamber, empty of evidence that she ever existed, but her body was lolling on the bed, stiff and flat. She was still clothed in her nightgown, almost camouflaged with her transparent skin, but with her forehead concealed by her dangling curls. Her body however, was not the question carved in his mind, perhaps stumbling upon her coat would ease it though.

The moment his eyes shifted on it the question was already dead, all that remained was to slink his hand in the pocket and wrestle with inside until his fingers clutched what they thirst. The search was swift, for soon removing his hand he had produced a gold object, round though small.  
A ring...a mere trinket that seemed to sustain no importance, Thorin would have believed if he had not been a witness to its power before.  
"What are you doing?"

The remembrance of that voice seemed so far, but it felt like it had revived Thorin. The guilt seemed to ease, not for lying to Gandalf of course, but to see Bilbo retrieving her strength. And he also was content to find her so feeble she remained in a daze long enough for him to slip the ring out of sight. His heed would be focus on it later, but no longer having to fret about the wizard stirring Thorin was in good faith.

"You're awake," he said to Bilbo, now wrestling through her sheets. Collapsing to her side he had a glass jar sustaining a clear colored liquid that he gently pressed to her lips. "Here, drink this. It will give you strength."

Her lips encircled the bottle, steadily her hands roused the glass higher up until the liquid scorched her tongue and she let out a cough. She hurled it back to him, her dead staring never leaving her face.

"What is it?" inquired Thorin.

"You knew...Even on that night you knew I could have died."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never risk your life like that."

"You know when I first encountered Smaug, he said I had no value to you. And he was right."

"You would listen to filthy worm who coward away in shadows and stole what was rightfully my peoples?" Thorin's voice was deepening, as if he was miffed and finding anyway to justify Bilbo's responds.

But she was quick to retort. "No...Thorin, I wouldn't. But when i realized you had lied...lied to me, I knew you didn't value me. That's why I left."

She expected her words to awake fumes, only to find Thorin settling in dismay. "My dear Bilbo, you could not be anymore wrong. I valued you and our friendship so much i bestowed this honor upon you. Even when the wizard cast doubt, I looked towards your strength and I saw the hope of Erebor." And though his words had proved much, he still felt the need that he proceeded in. He leaned over, meeting her lips, embracing them lightly yet it lasted for what seemed like hours.

Both had yet to chose whether it was manipulation or the curse of a prolong concealed attraction.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello.**  
**Thank you Just4Me, Kaoru Anderson, likarian, elle117, A Very Desperate Reader, JustAnotherGirl94, , and katiehorses for following or favoriting.**  
**To my reviews:**

**aliena wyvern - Darkness and sadness always make things gorgeous. That sounded incredibly weird. Anyways, thank you for the review :)**

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**I apologize for any errors or OOCs, please don't be afraid to mention them. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Please follow, favorite or review if you like. Thank you.**

* * *

"Doesn't he seem a bit pale to you?" Bilbo inquired as Thrandin encircled his fingers around her.

So translucent, with dark rimmed eyes and his lack of strength to even reach his arms out, she could not resist apprehension. He seemed so feeble, being half dwarf and half hobbit all had excepted him in constant famine, but he seemed to linger away from eating.

Thorin's perspective though differed.

"Relax my love," he said, swooping in from behind her as they faced their gazes upon their son who was cooing low. "Oin says he is doing well. Fili was the same way. Kili was the colicky one."

She didn't even need the others dwarves' assurance to believe that. Though their adolescent like behavior equaled out in both, Fili seemed more timid. There was an ounce in relief that, with some worry. She was already envisioning Thrandin darting through the halls, setting up pranks, but still shying away from constant talking.

"Aye...he is a beautie," agreed Balin, creeping from behind.

Unsettling still with current situations, she found herself resisting the urge to speak with Balin, she was not even secure with Thorin fully.

"There is no need to worry," said Thorin, always finding himself comforting her obsessive fret with his words. "He will grow with the strength of the kingdom." A grin fulfilling his face, caressing his downy locks between his fingers, Thorin had never been seen in such a state of bliss.

She was appealed but somewhat more intrigued, for Thorin's happiness was a sacred sighting.

She didn't wish for it to die and he didn't believe it would.

A week had drawn by, while Thrandin lurked in the same condition he had been. His whimpers were unheard between his coughs, as he stirred restlessly in the desire for relief. He could not even muster a loud enough shriek to reel his parents into his chambers. Time seemed withering away from him and Bilbo was the first to heed it. Her hand scorched from his warm head as she swooped him up with arm and the others hand placing upon his forehead.

"Thorin!" she cried out, summoning both him and his company. "Something...something's not right."

"Give him to me," he said, merely snatching Thrandin from her arms.

She winced to see fear awake on his face.

"Where is the medicine the apothecary sent over?" he inquired peering back to his companions that now stood with vacant stares, exchanging theirs with one another."I asked you where is it!"

"Should be in my quarters, I'll go fetch it laddies," said Oin, lowering his trumpet and pacing his steps.

"Thorin, perhaps we should get one of the healers," she recommended, watching with a heartbreak as her son attempted to muster a wail.

"Nonsense!" scoffed Thorin. "No human healer knows how to heal a dwarfling. Oin can handle him fine." Oin was already making a hasty return with the medicine, merely forcing it down Thrandin's mouth. He resisted, only commencing Oin to force the liquid farther into his mouth.

Though she viewed with a vacant stare, her heart wept, for she may have been the only one to acknowledge it, but Thrandin's life was withering. She wouldn't say it, Thorin would protest, he seemed in denial now a days...Perhaps his dragon sickness still lingered? With the others watching, watching Thrandin cough his next breath, maybe they knew it too, she wondered. Maybe they were too loyal and helpless to cross Thorin.

And they were.

They all felt the cool embrace of death coil around them, they just did not realize it would be that night it would strike.


	10. Chapter 10

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**aliena wyvern - Wait come back! Oh everything I do makes people run away and cry...**

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**Anyways, please forgive the massive OOCs that are about to spring up in this chapter and any errors possible too. Please don't be afraid to mention them either and follow, favorite or review if you would like. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Thank you.**

* * *

"We must try again!" Thorin's demand seemed so feeble to his companions' now. His words seemed so feeble now, so broken, though it may have deceived them all into believing his fumes came from mourning. It wasn't.

What flares stirring in Thorin came from something different, something that seemed unable to equal up the mourning of his so; his failure. The failure of his kingdom.

He seemed swallowed by his vanity he didn't even realize at the time what he was saying.

"Bring to her me! We must try again," he demanded to Balin and Dwalin. They seemed the only loyalty that remained. His other forlorn companions were off with their own business and he didn't care. He didn't even care where she had wandered off to - her disappearance was merely spoken of - all he desired was her in front of him, saving her resistance.

"Thorin," pressed Balin, attempting to relieve things before they darkened. But he stepped forth like an unequipped man in front an army fulled armed and bred for war. He could not win, the only thing he could conquer his fear and the only victory he would have is courage. "We must at least think about this. Do not be hasty with this."

"Do not speak to me on what I should do," he retorted, advising Balin to step down. "Our time is short. And we cannot waste it with thought. Summon her."

Both had been witness to his behavior before, along with his impulsive ways, but his actions convinced them he was not the same dwarf. Thorin was not careless enough to sacrifice a companion in such a way, to snap at another he could not be more fond of, to forget the passing of someone he loved. And though Balin knew of Thorin's behavior, he knew of something else, a sickness, a sickness that the dwarf king had once foolish believe he could destroy himself.

But they all knew, without acknowledgement until that day, that Dragon Sickness cannot be conquered by its victims, all who fought back only feed it. And now for Thorin, it had long been prosper.

Solitude felt familiar. She would never admit it, but she enjoyed being alone when it was convenient for her. Though this isolation felt tense, she felt guilty, guilty for a part of her couldn't understand why her grief was not weighing her down like it should. She loved Thrandin, but she didn't love the memory of him. He was nothing more than an excuse for her to stay because she didn't want her adventures to end.

Now there was no reason to stay, as if she was even seeking one. Perhaps she would bid an unspoken farewell at the end of the week. Slip away in the obscurity with her satchel...odd, it still looked the same, save a few new frayed edges. After all this way. She wondered if she was the same. Maybe she hadn't changed. Maybe her true existence settled only in the Shire.

Lifting her body up from the bed with all the power she could find, Bilbo peered over her shoulder and finding Thorin hovering.

The encounter was awkward and something she wished would have stayed silent, but Thorin wished for other things.

"I summoned you," he said.

"Thorin...I...I just need to be alone for now." Her head bowed, trying to free herself of his glare.  
Thorin shuffled forth.

"Thorin..." She withdrew

"We must try again," he finally said. "For another heir..."

"Per...perhaps it's best if we wa...waited, Thorin," she perused through her utters. She did not want to try. "You aren't thinking clearly...none of us are."

But he shook his head, his mind unable to register her words properly. "Do not tell me to wait! I have waited long enough. This is my kingdom and forever in my bloodline. I will not stand to watch it fail again."

"I...I think it might be best if I left," she forced herself to say, feeling his presences growing in on her as he continued to fume. She didn't want to continue her words, though, already most had been said on an impulse. But she had to. "Back to Bag End. I cannot stay here, Thorin. There is something wrong with this place. It is not meant for someone like me." Proceeding to leave, she felt relieved despite his cold glare. She believed it would be the last she ever saw it.

It wouldn't, it was not piercing through her, it's invisible arms forcing her back against the wall Thorin's hand was set on Orcist's handle and the inferno was lit in his eyes. He assumed he had her cornered, saved of anyway to escape, but Bilbo new dwarfs were quick thinkers and that was what led them to their despair.

Steadily her hands crept towards her pocket, wrestling through the fabric that brushed against her fingers, waiting to feel the cool sting of one of her most valuable possession, but finding nothing. She could no longer conceal her stealth, both her hands and her eyes were searching. Every pocket was turned out before she could return her stare to Thorin and swallow down her fear.

"Looking for this?" he asked, now with a gold ring produced in his hand.

"Where...Where did you get that?" she inquired, attempting to appear subtle, but she lost herself at the beginning of the conversation.

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted. "Such a mere trinket, such a petty thing that you honor. It has more importance to you than anything else it would seem. But why?"

"Thorin give...give it back." Her tone sharpened. Just at the sight of the ring her name was echoing in her ears and her temptation roused.

"I have bargained and endured much to reclaim what rightfully belongs to me."

"Don't." Her head shook and her mind trembled. He would not hold back her possessions for his own needs, she was sure of it. That was not the Thorin she knew. Than again, she was in a constant mental interrogation when it came to him now a days.

"Why should it be any different for you?" he asked, approaching until she was flattened against the wall again. "Not until I have another son will you get this ring or your freedom back."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello.**

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**To my reviews:**

**Dearreader - I should have mentioned this before, so I apologize for this, but the reason he does die is because when I first started this I had it planned out. Perhaps I should he should have lived, it's just I think had he the plot would have just been rough...? And I would have been picking at plot straws because like I said, I had everything set. But I do thank you for mentioning this and bringing it to my attention. I of course could try to change, if you like. **  
**Also, where would you think he was most...evil and disliked? I will gladly go back and change it as best I can. Anyways thanks for the review!**

**aliena wyvern - Hahah, interesting feeling! Now I want to write a chapter where Thorin wakes up with Bilbo standing over his bed with a knife. No, lets not make them anymore out of character :) Thank you for the review!**

**DearChibico - Anger is good...Wait no it isn't! Scratch that! But thank you for finding this interesting and thanks for the review!**  
**musicgal100189 - To be honest I kind of like making him go crazy. It's odd considering he a favorite character of mine, but watching the Battle of the Five Armies I was disappointed that this whole phase of insanity he goes through ends with him just kind of...deciding he's okay. I think I wanted to portray him as still unstable and growing even worse. Thank you for the review though!**

**shadewatcher - I agree but like in the movies and in the book, Dwalin especially and Balin are so loyal to him. I mean they do question his intentions, and I think it goes for the whole company as well. Save Fili and Kili and even Bombur (if we're talking book wise) would be the only ones that I think would disagree. But thank you for the review!**

**Please forgive any OOCs and errors you find in this chapter and please don't be afraid to mention. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Favorite, follow or review if you like. Thank you!**

* * *

The world was at the crest of fall With the forlorn days of summer behind and a winter desolation ahead, she felt a chill coil around her skin. Bilbo should have brought her coat, today weather was bringing a cringe. She equally should have stayed in her chamber, if not more so. But a gloom was harboring over the mountain, mostly produce by Thorin's current state that even Bombur seemed unpleasant to her. For now she had chose to endure the cold than the emotional death that was flourishing.

And that morning, as she stepped towards the edge of the rampart, she rejoiced that she had.

Galloping towards was a pallid house, it's rein a blurred brown in her view and upon it was a grey figure that as it emerged closer transformed into a human figure. She had already rushed down to entrance to greet him.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo cried as they met midway. Her tongue knew it would grow tire for she had much to say, it felt like a century since she had spoke, no less to him. But she found herself only asking, "What is it?" after finding his horse halted and him locked in position with only a vacant stare directed towards her.

But quickly his brow beneath the rim of his hat roused high and he said, "It seems as I have been deceived." And though he may have been impaired by age, he gracefully dismounted his steed and come forth.

With her mind wandering farther into confusion the only reply she could give was a light, force smile, not at all dimming her confusion, and a stiff chortle.

"It is good to see you, my dear, alive and well," he said, crouching to her height and resting a hand on her shoulder. "And I am sorry for the circumstances that have brought me here."

"Thrandin..." The name faded with the breeze.

"Yes. And a great many other things too," he said, his eyes now skimming the rampart. He was in search for someone, not that he hoped to see anyone. "Tell me, where is Thorin?"

"I...I don't know and I much rather not," she replied, still lost in her perplexity.

The wizard paused, have to register the thoughts swallowing his mind and having to look past to find his knowledge. "He is ill then," he then said, grim and steadily.

Bilbo did not want to reply, but this was the only question she had a proper answer for. But her timid attitude towards it already spoke for her.

"Dragon Sickness," said Gandalf, low, as if he didn't want to admit it. "It passes through the bloodline. Any offspring of Thorin's is at risk."

Her head bowed now. She had things she found strength to resist, yet had he caught her wounded expression he would have knew. Her behavioral has already aroused a great deal of suspension, she needed now anything to withdraw him from his questions.

"Gandalf...I thought Thorin had got better. The day of the battle, he seemed well, he seemed well even after that."

"Don't be a fool, if you can help it." His tone had sprung and sharpened. He never expected her to fall for this deception. "It is a sickness not one can control. And it prospers most when the mind is weakened."

"Thrandin's death..." She could quit with her ponder now, for Gandalf's sake, though she still had many questions, ones that needed time to be asked. But she impaired by the moment. This revelation exposed Thorin's plan.

That was why he let her stay, he saw her value, that is why he fed her all his lies. She was nothing more than a pawn. She always knew she was, and she always tried to deny it. What was left to propose anything different?

"He has tried for another heir, hasn't he?"

"Yes." It seemed all her strength could muster.

"And has he succeeded?"

Her assurance rested in no answers. "I...I don't know."

Gandalf's expression grimed, rebounding for a second with his thoughts. He had to be hasty now, time was a foe, but his actions could not be on a whim if he was to retrieve her freedom. "If you stay here any longer his sickness will worsen. He musten have a heir, not like this. Meet me on the outskirts of Dale before dawn tomorrow," he instructed and he would have continued had she not interrupted.

"What? I'm not leaving," she said, for once standing her ground. "Thorin maybe is sick, but he is my friend. Not to mention he will follow us to his death if I am..."

"That is why you will be in my protection. There is far too many places that he would wish to travel that you could stay. You will be in right hands. In time you might be even able to return home to the Shire."

"But...but this is my home."

Gradually he shook his head, not out of protest, but out of pity. "No, my dear, it is not. Not anymore." His eyes shifted towards the rampart, perceiving some sort of distant movement. Ambling down they had already advanced halfway pass the front gates. He lingered for too long. He would have to depart, not comforting to either them but it was best if they left without a set of inquiries from Thorin. "You are a brave soul, Bilbo , but a foolish one as well. But sensible just as well, well enough that I know you will be in Dale when I return."

Burdening his weight on his staff, his steps were hastened by the growing movements. He bid a farewell, so swift it melted in breeze the moment he spoke it. And she would let him run off, leaving her with only wonder, uncertainty that had yet registered in her mind, but she remembered the thing that kept her in Erebor.

"Gandalf!" she called and he shifted his head.

"Yes." The pace of his words gradual.

"I wanted to tell you this, but I found something much more than my courage in the tunnels..." Her head dropped, her chin bouncing off her chest as she did. "A...a..."

"A ring of power?"

"Yes. How did you - "

"You are not quite subtle as you believe. Nevertheless, you must chose if this is more important than your freedom, not to mention your future." He would say no more, not with time closing in like this. So for a second round, he bid a farewell and with a whip of the reins his horse galloped off towards the city.

Gandalf's word spoke true, she could admit that, but that ring, something was drawing her in. Her name was echoing from its call. Let it go...she had to. For her freedom she had to.


	12. Chapter 12

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* * *

The barren halls seemed to change at night. Though they always gad this vibe nothing outside these walls existed, even now as Bilbo ventured out from her chamber, she felt something new rising in her. The floor was vibrating, if it wasn't her mind, and the walls were drawing in. Every step was met with shadows, shadows that had long embraced her. She could merely see her feet, only small strains of hair upon them could be detected.

She wanted to turn back, she was sacrificing much roaming these halls. She wished to retrieve the good times, but there were very few. She also had an unfulfilled desire to grant her companions a farewell. Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Ori perhaps and Dori, even Balin. The rest could live without her farewell. But as she continued to amble, her thoughts twisted. She wanted to say goodbye to Thorin, the Thorin she once knew, the one who had not been tangled in the sickness of his own pride.

Though the need may not be satsified concerning him, it would with Bombur.

He was waddling through the corridors, descending into his dreams even with his eyes slightly open. "Why, Bilbo, bless me, I didn't know that was you," he yawned, stumbling back as she moved forth.

"Bombur," she greeted, more timidly and now more alert. "I...I don't suppose you've seen anyone else up, have you?"

He shook his head as self - pity followed. "Thorin bound me to the front gates for the night. Mind him I'd much rather be in my warm bed with a strong drink."

"Why, I was just can't seem to sleep tonight. I would be more than glad to patrol for you tonight."

"Bless you, my dear. I think I shall take you up on that offer." His mind was in a haze, or the shadows camouflaged her, either way Bombur did not take notice of her satchel or her coat. He was to appealed by the idea of a long sleep to care at all. Thorin would be crossed with him int he morning, he would not doubt that, to leave his duties with her, but for now the call from his bed were echoing in the halls. It was summoning him by name.

And as he ventured farther into the dark, she continued with her steps. Had it not been for her stealth she would never have been forced into this journey and ironically it was what was helping her end it. She trusted Bombur's words, but any heard noise would rumble these halls and draw the dwarves out of their sleep. She did not wish to think of the inquiries she would have to deal with it and the lies she would have to think of.

Once gone from the corridor it was a straight shot to the Gallery of the Kings. Farther through she would have to climb down the jagged the rocks, perhaps enduring a few scratches or bruises.

Though she had yet to sense the threat already lingering.

As she made her way upon the narrow bridges above the columns of gold, she cursed it mentally. Her loath for its evil spirit had occupied her mind, enough to not notice Thorin emerging from the dark.

"What are you doing here?" he asked and Bilbo sprung back.

"I...I..." she begun to utter, searching for an excuse, but he would not heed them.

"You are escaping," he accused as he caught the sight of her satchel's strap upon her shoulder. "You are abandoning me..."

"No, no, Thorin no. Let me explain," she begun but did expect him to let her finish.

"You would leave all I have given to you. My home, my respect...my love."

"Thorin, you are not what you seem. You are sick. And me being here..."

"You would steal my heir."

"No, Thorin, I'm not...It failed."

"What?" That vacant stare had sank into a look of distress. He pondered her words and if truth actually exist in them. "Then we must tray again."

She could only her shake her head as she steadily begun to withdraw. There was no escape, not a certain one to be found. She could have gained the attention of the rest of the dwarves, perhaps they could settle him, but in the end she would have been dragged back to her chamber.

"No. We cannot try again," she said, trying to reason her tone. "It was because we tried that we lost our son. And we would lose the next one if we tried." Thorin's reactions were hasty and her words had to equal their pace. "Look, Thorin, I do, I do love you and I would do anything to save your kingdom, I have already, but I'd much rather save you. If I stay, you will lose yourself...more...I can't not slay your madness, but I must try to stop a part of it."

"Slay? You speak of things you do not know..." he begun. "You did not save my kingdom and you do not love me. You have been conspiring with the wizard, haven't you?"

There seemed no use in denying it.

"Yes," she admitted.

"You would listen to his rues over my words. You would jeopardize our love for his lies," he breathed, building on her guilt. "Perhaps you are not the halfling I knew. Perhaps my love means nothing to you that you would join league with that fool of a wizard. Go..." His tone descend to a whisper as it begun to tremble. "Go to him, dwell in hole in the ground. Return to your books...your armchair...your unambitious life."  
"I don't want to," she said and she spoke the truth. It was not wise, not now, but she felt if she didn't it would damage her more on the inside. "This was my home. But I will not do this to you. I will not make you worse and I will not make you risk more than you know." She lingered longer than she should, expecting, hoping for a reply, but he remained with his side towards her and his head bowed. A part of her was guilty to know she could do nothing more and now she was acting daft, only being able to watch him spiral, and she was heartbroken. Of all the ways she wished to depart him, she never wished for this. But a part of her that did not show was relief.

This was the end, the end of her very long journey.

Bilbo had gained and lost much, much she did not say farewell to. This may have been the only thing she had the chance to.  
"And what about this?" he inquired as she was half way across the path.

Her eyes steered back to see the glimpse of gold forged in his palm. She should have known better than to believe he wouldn't come with bait.

"Thorin..." she whispered, swallowing down the temptation.

He spoke words her mind could not register for it was swallowed by that ring's strength. Its call echoed through the halls, reeling her closer. She would not verbally admit her attraction to it, but already seeing her stride closer, Thorin knew. He had long pondered why she seemed so fond of it when around its presences, but now he didn't care. He saw the temptation lurk in her eyes, already she had shuffled her way back with a vacant stare locked upon it.

But as her steps halted his mind drifted back to his wonder.

"No..." she whispered, scrunching her brow and shaking her head. "No...Thorin. I won't. I'm sorry."

"You have made your choice then?" he asked and now blinded by his old self peering out, she had not noticed the ring slip between the slits of his fingers. She caught, only in a mere second, Thorin's hand slithering across his belt to rest upon Orcist's handle. He was hasty with his reflects now and already he was rising the tip of his blade to her chest.

Her arms rouse like the wing's of an eagle in surrender. Her steps back, though, were feeble and short as she paid more attention to maintaining her breath. "Thor..." she uttered before her voice shattered.

"Leave me then...you miserable rat! You were nothing until I cam and you will be nothing when you return. You were not loved, you were not remembered, you had no true home, until I came. But go...go back to your empty hole." His words were menacing like his stare. She knew better than to believe his words, he was set to pounce if she moved.

"I...I do love you, Thorin," Bilbo said, recapturing her voice. And now she said her words clear, with confidence and a steady pace.

"No!" he yelled. "Do not lie to me!"

"But I do and I always will..." And it was her final words that would remain true even as the side of his blade slashed against her chest. Those words held her high even as she descend to the stones, a stinging chill meeting her body soon after. She did not hear the sound of Sting encounter the floor, though, or the sound of the cram in her bag crumble from the fall, or the water in her canteen splash around or even Thorin's near cry as he snapped out of his daze.

All she knew now was her words and they satisfied her, but not enough. It was the sound of boots shuffling off into the corridors as Thorin's pants of distress that followed that roused up from her stomach and produce a soft chuckle. She glanced down to her chest and through the tears of her coat, an illumination was forming. "Mithril," she chortled.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello.**  
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**Please forgive any OOcs or errors that you see and please don't be afraid to mention them. Constructive criticism is always welcomed. Follow, favorite or review if like to. Thank you!**

* * *

He had been watching time fade for over an hour. The sun was on the crest of rising, already it's ray were peering out, casting away the dark. Each minute that drew by made him wonder and made him aggravated, but not nervous. He had too much faith in her to feel in such a way.  
Though he may have doubted it for a minute and was set to turn back to the city and mount his steed, but that is when she came rushing out from the shadows. Her unbalanced breath led the way as she followed behind, her hands resting upon her breast.

He was set to greet her, perhaps it was out of place but he was relieved to see her, but Bilbo got in the first word. "We need to leave! We must go!" she wheezed.

Though he never found the strength to verbally ask, her torn blouse and sheer illumination peering out from the slits eased his question. With only a swift glance back to the mountain, he ushered her forth. "Than you two did not end on good terms, I see," he observed, lingering for a second before advancing. "Nevertheless, come, less us hurry."

There were many words left unspoken as they ambled through, even Gandalf had a few questions of his own. But he gave her the chance to catch her breath, even with a great deal of caution, and as they passed the boarders of Dale and found themselves stumbling up the jagged hills, he found both retrieved enough wit to speak. She was rattled and an ounce of him pitied her, but there was much to speak of.  
Oddly enough it was her who addressed it.

"Gandalf, where are we going?" Bilbo asked with a final broad sigh. "I cannot go back to the Shire."  
He shifted back to her, with the simple question, "Why?"

"Thorin, Thorin knows that's where we were headed. Once he sees that I'm not dead he'll come for me. He'll know our path." She could have continued on for hours, only to prove her point had he not stepped in.

"And what reason would he have to follow?" he asked.

Her head bowed in regret as she sank into silence. She spent her days lying to Thorin she was so oblivious to the truth she may not have known it herself. But Gandalf didn't need her for the truth, she may have gain more through him than herself.

"Then we must continue on," was all he could say.

"He doesn't know."

"And that won't stop him. But, there is many places we can rest your safety in. Seeing how we are already on the path of it Rivendell may be our best hope." He resumed his steps but she did follow his action. More questions and comments were still registering in her mind.

"Well...what if he comes searching for me there?" she asked and for her question to be heard she had to advance several feet only to halt again.

"It is one of the safest place to seek refuge, if not the only. Besides, the elves are not overly fond of Thorin's kind since the last time they were there. You will be well protected and taken care of by Lord Elrond. You need it now," he advised, glancing towards her. "Now stay close. My horse should be...Ah! There is it." His grey steed had been bound to the one of Dale's post, awaiting his master's return.

He mounted at his own pace that may have been a hastened a bit and then returned his eyes to her, holding out a hand to aid her. Though Bilbo stumbled once or twice, she soon shuffled into the saddle and off they rode into the horizon. They chose to save their breath for they would need it in the long run, but that didn't stop her wonder, a wonder of what to come and where her faith rested. It was not among dwarves, surely not elves, but there was no where else to hide.. If she was even to her return to Bag End would not be embraced. How others were talking now.

Bilbo had found many reasons to fret and for that she did, almost that whole day and the next. Her eyes only peered to the re - building of the town on the lake as they passed by, and upon the Running River. Had she been content she would have acknowledge its beauty and perhaps reminisce of what was, but with so much ponder she couldn't. All that calmed her nerve, to an extent, was knowing what fouled the path she once took had been purged. Even with some wickness lurking Gandalf assured her she was well protected.

It made the route easier and in a few months they had arrived to the Last Homely House. Gandalf had hastened his pace, not in fear of what maybe trailing them, he had long forgot the dwarves, but because of a sickness that was growing inside of her.

As he merely sprung from his horse, he kept a firm embrace upon Bilbo's body, now pallid and weary, and it would not loosen until he saw Elrond emerged.

His eyes dropped right to her and not wasting time with formalities and greets with his old friend, Elrond commanded her to the closest chamber. But that did save Gandalf from his inquiries, which the elf lord had many.


	14. Chapter 14

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* * *

It had been a day, pending to two since Elrond had reported on her condition. The tension that had been building , since as Gandalf was left to ponder, ceased as the elf approached. Though he came with a deceiving expression it came from other reasons.

"She is weak and deserves much rest, but she will survive so long as she stays in our care," assured Elrond, but his wounded expression never died. "I can protect and her child from falling ill, but I cannot protect them from Thorin."

"Thorin would have no reason to follow," said Gandalf, adding in a broad sigh. He couldn't even convenience his ownself with his words. Not he was even questioning why he gave such detail of what was going on to Elrond."Not when he does not know of her condition."

Elrond could only shake his head, steadily it was to capture the attention of his companion. "Even without knowing that he will draw close until he finds her. You can only hide her for so long, Gandalf," he pressed, though his tone never stern. "Where will you go once the child arrives?"  
He asked to stray from the topic, a topic that was resurrecting that tension and perhaps Gandalf had some answers to this question. But see him shuffle Elrond thought wrong.

"You are more than welcome to stay here," he offered. "But I don't think she intended on it." He strode off into the balcony to look upon the place he was declared chief of. He expected his friend to follow, believing the sight would ease their mind. But as Gandalf came he was in a daze from ponder.

"No. But she cannot go back to the Shire. If she brings a dwarfling into that town saying it is her child word will spread, far enough to where Thorin wanders."

"And if the child is more on her side? Would you at least consider it?"

Again he grew timid, unsure what to answer.

"I...Well, yes, perhaps...But that would take years before we would be certain it would be safe to go back. Who knows where Thorin would go. And if he is to finds that child..."

"I would not think you would keep a king from his heir." Elrond's eyes steered towards his friend who stood close, but was slouched and appearing uncertain. "There is an illness that strains in the blood of though crowned king of the mountain, you fear her son would share the same faith."

Gandalf steered a wounded stare to him. It was something he was certain of and something he didn't wish was mention. And a reason he had returned to her while pressing the idea to retreat. Though his main purpose was to maintain the safety of Bilbo ,he also not wish to see the illness take another she loved. It should not be something burden upon her, though many things were.

Thoughts had lowered his eyes, but once retrieved he lifted them back to Elrond only to find his eyes were shifted at the doorway. The constant focus invited paranoia. It was for Gandalf did see or hear the slight shuffle from the other side of the door.

"You will have enough time to find your answers," the elf chief finally said, removing his stare. "Will you be staying?"

"For now...yes," he said with a sharp nod.

"Then I will see to it your needs are fulfilled. I will inform if her condition changes." And he parted ways, leaving behind suspension and nothing more.

* * *

He glided across the hall like a ghost; unseen and unheard and it made Bilbo spring as he made his presences unknown. Now she was alert and much more fearful. She was summoned to her bed by him and was given orders not to leave it for her and her child's security. Save the season, there was nothing for her to view, no reason to roam around Rivendell like she had her current visit and therefore both Elrond and Gandalf assumed she would have remained resting.

Elrond wasn't upset though to find her on her feet.

He sympathized with her, actually. In all this despair and wonder, her being centralized around it, how could she spend her days lolling in bed, trying to find comfort that wasn't there.

"Shouldn't you be resting in your chamber?" he asked and she shuffled.

"Why...I...I needed to stretch my legs," she said, half - truthful but added a swift chortle and feeble smile. She was paranoid or at least she acted like she was, peering over her shoulders occasionally, trying to avoid eye contact only to have her behavior draw in his attention. "You...You knew I was listening, didn't you?"

Steadily his head nodded, as he produced only a 'mhmm' for an answer.

Now she couldn't conceal her frets. "Uh, you won't tell Gandalf, will you?"

"If that is what you wish," Elrond agreed, the pace of his words gradual and yet graceful, relieving Bilbo enough to remain grounded.

A silenced loomed lasting for several prolonged minutes, despite she had a question on the tip of her tongue. She tried to a find a way to execute it properly, to pace it correctly but found herself blurting it out. "Do you agree with him? Do...do you think I should lie." A heat flushed over her face as her eyes shifted towards her stomach. She would sacrifice all her dignity to say what she said next. "I...I have lost my home, my name, my respect, my son and the only person I have ever felt for...I cannot lose her. Or him. I know I cannot get any of it back, but at least if I can keep them, it might be worth it..."

Now Elrond was not timid, though his tone stayed low. "You do not have to listen to anyone but yourself. The choice on where you and your child lies in your hand. And what becomes of them." He set his hand upon her shoulder, not a squeeze or a pat, but it brought content. The words she desired but had not heard she could now indulge. And he wished to express her gratitude, thank him for being the first to treat her like a person. A pawn and an accessory she had been, so much she thought she was one.

Yet his hand descend from his shoulder and he shifted towards the door, leaving behind no trace of his existence.


	15. Chapter 15

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* * *

For so long his mind had sabotaged him. His delusions suffocated him, leading him from the bounds of reality. He never questioned them, he never could. But as he paced back to the corridor, finding it unoccupied by any living or nonliving thing, he stumbled back and wondered.

Last night, perhaps it was a dream, a nightmare, nothing more. Maybe his mind had descended so far from the grasp of reality he reacted moments that ceased to exist.

There was no trail of blood, no foot prints embedded upon the light blanket of dust over the narrow path, no evidence that a scuffle had ever occurred and that made him retrace his steps in reverse. He walked back to her chamber, peering inside, shifting his head side to side and finding nothing he advanced farther in.

Though his observation was hasty, it was enough for his mind to register; she had escaped. She had deceived him….How, he wasn't sure of and a part of him didn't care. He had to find her. Surely if Bombur was on guard there was a chance he might of saw her while on the ramparts. She may still have had her stealth, but not else. He made sure of that.

His trip to the Gallery of the King was though interrupted.

Save his optimistic approach, Balin seemed to be grumbling, slightly fumed someone brewed so much mayhem he awoke to his sweet dreams. "Thorin?" He approached in speech.

"Balin, awake the others. Tell them to get the city." His tone fell. "Find her….Find Bilbo."

"Bilbo?" asked the elderly dwarf only to be heaved.

"Go!" And Thorin departed swiftly and went back to his path. He was soon to the rampart when Bombur was just waddling from the far side of the room. His was groaning, yawning (several times) and twitching his nose trying to find the path to breakfast.

He grumbled a 'morning' which Thorin did not exchange.

"Bilbo…..did you see her?" he asked.

"Bless me! The Hobbit is missing? Why last night she came in restless offering to take my post. I saw no harm in it…." Bombur recalled.

"You fool!" Thorin growled, grabbing his coat's cuffs and heaving him in. "Curse you! Curse you and let your days wither!"

Death was staring through Bombur now, piercing his soul, scorching his flesh. He tried to stammer out a protest but Thorin would not listen. A fire consumed his eyes, one that flared like the inferno of a fire - breathing drake. Nothing he heard, nothing he saw mattered, nothing could register in his mind and yet, like a flash of lightening, it vanished.

Thorin's grasp loosened, returning Bombur to his feet and withdrew. He cowards his face, not just from his companion, but from the world. A shame swept over him and it prospered even as he tried to shield himself. Memories wavered in his mind. His kind, his journey, his accomplishments and his failure. And her.

Dwalin was only a few steps away when Thorin called on him.

"Send message to Dain. Tell him to come no later than the end of the week," instructed Thorin, retrieving his mind slowly. "Make Bofur and Oin and Gloin arm up. We leave at his arrival." He proceeded and expected Dwalin to the same, but he remained motionless as did his brother.

"Thorin….the mountain," Balin breathed.

But he shook his head and he said, "We have to find her."

* * *

With days drawing by she felt shackled to her bed.

Emotionally, of course, with Gandalf's constant stare towering over her.

This hardly seem like time for resting, even for her and yet her friend was not moved. Insisting was worthless.

Even if she was spared from his view there was always an elf looming. But something had drawn them from their patrol, leaving a perfect chance for her to wrestle out of her bed sheets and be greeted by the feel of something more than the softness of her sheets. She did not take up to much time embracing it though, a mayhem of sounds were brewing far off. It was a guilty pleasuring of hers, sneaking around and yet when she saw the reason for the uproar she wished it wasn't.

She was taken back by the sight of him.

She watched him climb off his pony, bitter by their arrival delay. Following the same actions, but nt sharing the same emotions, Bofur, Oin, Gloin and Dwalin seemed more weary than angry. She wondered what had become of the rest of the company. She didn't believe he would trust it in the hands of anyone but himself. And then again she didn't believe he would leave for the reasons he did.

Now he looked rather innocent. The dwarf she once knew, the dwarf she once loved.

And there he was being swept away with his companions to the elvish chief.

She wanted to know what they spoke of and she would find out, for it went something like this.

"Welcome King Thorin son of Thrain," Elrond greeted, a hand over his breast with his words. He always respected his guest, and even now tangled in a mess Thorin had created he still approached him with a warming politeness."Your victory over your homeland was well met."

"Indeed." They for once could agree upon something. But he wasn't here for an ego stroke, Elrond knew that already. He didn't show it though, he concealed his emotions well. Thorin was suspicious enough if not certain about Bilbo's where abouts. Before he even interrogate him though, Elrond held up a hand to gain silence

"You have come here looking the knowledge of your halfling's whereabouts," he observed.

There was no point in denying it. "She has passed through then?"

Elrond's stare softened. "Yes. And you will be glad to know she was alive and well. But she was not alone."

"Gandalf." Thorin held such high belief in Bilbo that he never thought any evil would come to her as she any she was well protected. That is not to say a part of him was reassured to know she wasn't alone. "I should have expected nothing more of the wizard."

"It was for him your dear hobbit even took the right path home."

"They have left than?"

Elrond's only reply was a nod.

Thorin came forth with a cap in his mouth but found the words on his tongue unspoken. With a swift glanced towards his kin as they were being herded and ushered to a feast the words merely dissolved from his mind. Surely they would not embrace their arrival with civilized manners and food had they have something to hide. Save this was the behavior of elves, Rivendell elves.

"Where were they headed?" he finally asked though never removing his eyes from the scene.

"I convinced them she return to the Shire, to relieve herself of her journeys," he lied.

"Why?" he nearly growled.

"Because peace does not exist in this world the way it has. Evil is lurking, a type of evil you would not wish to meet even armed. It is no life for her. She deserves the comfort of her home. Not the road. She has done much for you, Thorin Oakenshiel. You have no reason to follow her As she does not have one to follow you. I suggest you return to your mountain and leave what you've known behind."

These unexpected words, suggestions, statements, they took a moment of boths' time to register for the pit of greed still prosper in him he would have grown fumed. He wasn't accepted Elrond's words and he saw their meaning. But he would not listen to them.

He sauntered away to find his kin. They were more pleased to see him then see the bowls of elvish food in front of them. Though they were famished from their journey and all desired a grand meal they required this grand meal involve meat. So they sprung to their feet and assembled around Thorin to find him with few words. "Gather your things, we make for the Shire."

And they obeyed. There was nothing else they could do.

Save the fact the company not was only made up of five of them, they still moved as slow as there still was thirteen.

Thorin would not have been pleased had he even cared to pay attention. He spent more time pondering his current conversation while addressing his pony's bridle Maybe he should go back to Erebor. Dain and the rest of the company, they were just chose to watch the mountain on a whim. He was thinking too hasty at the time…..that mountain, just the thought of it suffocated the rest.

But Bilbo….he needed to know she saw safe. Even if it meant sacrificing everything.

No. The gold, the gems, the stones, the throne, they were hard work regaining it.

She was of more value….wasn't she?"

He firmed the bridles and the questions melted for as he studied his pony for the last final time his eyes were caught but something unexpected. For the moment he felt he had been watched, maybe by Elrond or another elf, but this unknown stare was piercing inside of him. He had been. By what he thought was just another trick of the mind.

Those light brown tressels were flowing down her shoulder like a waterfall, framed around her face. It was not flawless, her laugh lines were peaking out and her tan was unequal. She had ran out her door that day without her hat. It one of the few choices she made she regretted. Her feet was sullied by dirt, they always were.

And yet in his eyes she shined.

He smiled to find her doing the same. And he whispered, "Bilbo."


	16. Chapter 16

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* * *

"Gandalf!"

It felt like a whole age had prospered since she reached him. And to make matter worse their meet begun with an exchange of unsettling stares, for neither had yet experienced a blissful moment.

"Bilbo, my dear, what on earth are you doing up?" The wizard's head sprung up, his eyes searching the outskirts, half - expecting to see Thorin still lingering. His posture loosened to see no dwarf in sight.

"Th….Thorin what was he doing here?" she asked, her tone descending. She did not care about the glare prospering on his face or the attention drawn by her tense behavior and improper apparel. It was anything but modest to rush out in her nightgown and robe. "I thought he wouldn't have followed."

Gandalf, paranoid by elvish eyes resting upon them, ushered her off onto the path to her bedroom. Their steps were short and slow, providing plenty of time for conversation.

"He did not see you?" Gandalf begun. He knew if Thorin had this conversation would not exist, but it was mere caution.

"No." She stumbled over her feet trying to maintain the same pace of her companion. "Where is he going?"

"Lord Elrond pursued him to travel to the Shire,": he said. "Misleading him into believing you returned home."

Bilbo shuffled, her steps halting as her fear roused. "But if he comes back…."

"Then we shall be far away from here," he replied, continuing with his amble."He would have lost our tracks at his return."

It was not a plan she was keen of. Run, always running away, having no home for her or her future child. Did her journey have no conclusion?

"Gandalf….didn't it seem like Thorin was better?" she asked. She wanted to believe it, then again she wanted to believe anything more than what she knew. "Could it….."

Now Gandalf halted his steps, turning to her, his eyes cautious. "Do not be fooled. The moment he returns to that gold he will be under a dark enchantment, one that will make him unrecognizable."

"But if -"

"No time for that."

"Gandalf -"

"No time for that either."

It would not kill the wonder swarming her mind though. Thorin perhaps still remained.

* * *

A dark essences had descended over the world and yet Bilbo still shuffled in her sleep.

Thorin's existence had evanescence from her mind. She dreamed of him, though with each one that followed the image of him blurred. She tried to recapture the imagine of him in her mind every time she awoke, yet it had grown so distant she couldn't. Now, now he was a vivid imagine embedded in her mind. She remembered each detail. He was weary and battered from the road, his black waves were sodden and his beard was tinted with grey. The dirt from the path they traveled clung to his face and his formal clothing was marred and endings frayed, but she knew him, more than the dwarf she awoke to months ago.

She opened her eyes, looking across the once occupied side of her bed to see him towering over her.

"Thorin," she whispered with a faint smile.

His fingers combed through her brown locks, shushing her lowly. "Do not waste your breath my love."

She would not listen though, she had enough to waste. He was worth wasting it on. "I….I didn't want to leave you. I wanted to stay and I would of."

"You had every right to leave. You did only what I would have wanted you to," he praised.

"But I didn't want to. I loved you Thorin," she breathed.

"I love you Lady Baggins. I am sorry for where I have led you."

Her smile widened, bringing the ease of content over both. "Pray, don't leave. Not tonight."

"I have never left you," he reassured and he leaned down with his lips puckered, meeting hers as they descend from time and froze in the moment. She didn't want the moment to end. She knew he was a figment of her imagination, but that was unacceptable to her. The comfort of his arms wrapped around her with his beard prickling against her smooth complexion was a feel she could never discard. It only existed mentally and yet it was more powerful than anything reality could produce.

The strength of his embrace dimmed time and she could of rest for all of eternity if spared of she wasn't.

It was a wave of pain that prospered as she sprung up and moaned. Her hands fall to her stomach, clutching it firmer.

She cursed the pain. Not for its force, but how it had wandered her from her illusions.

A hot flush touched her face as her eyes swollen and she proceeded to weep. She choked out, "Don't you dare leave me" only to fall back and the side of her bed empty. She drifted off to sleep with tears that had built in her eyes slipping through. She could not remember a time she felt as dead as she did.

The feeling would die soon enough, but for that night it consumed her to her sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

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A hundred dreams had passed her until the mayhem occurring outside awoke her.

Bilbo sprung up, perhaps not the best choice, panting softly as her mind begun to retrieve itself. Night shadow's still lingered in her room, building high in the corner as an autumn moon's rays pierced through the window. Maybe those sounds, now dead, were just a rick of the mind, she thought sinking back down into her bed, only for the yells to rise. In another round of jumping up, this time she swung her short legs across the bed and heaved herself to her feet.

The corridors were barren, the dim still cast upon them, making her steps meet with caution. Only half of her mind was awake and it held a fear suffocating her. She found no justice for her actions, other that chaos drawing her near. It took her down another corridor and a flight of steps and to the outside where the world was lit by silver.

Upon the platform leading to the outskirts of Rivendell a group of elves, armed with their weapons still in their holsters, had assembled. They shuffled around as Elrond approached, but never enough to expose what was concealed in the center. Not until a masculine figure pushed through, his blue clock and the golden tossle sending her mind ablaze.

Bilbo blinked several times before choking out a call. She didn't think he would hear it. It was low and soft and drowning in the protest of his companions, but his head shifted up, gaining her an ounce of content. Watching his lips quivering out her name she felt the fear and as he proceeded forth, slow at first, then his steps hastened, her guilt drained. She meant to meet him halfway, even with Gandalf's arm of resistance falling down on her but never clutching.

"Bilbo!" he called in protest but she never looked back. Her focus was consumed by the sight of him traveling towards her, only for both their steps to come to a brief halt. They marveled over one another as the distress they had placed upon one another died. The dark memories they shared seemed to mentally wither, enough they could stride forth and he could scoop her into an embrace. "Bilbo," he breathed, lolling his face onto her shoulder. "I am so sorry."

She didn't know what he was apologizing for, but she didn't care.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, removing herself from the embrace. She could only savor it for so long.

"Did you think I would heed the words from an elf?" he asked and it produced a faint smile on her face.

"No," she said softly, catching eyes with Elrond who stood a vast distant behind. "I wouldn't…"

"Come, we should depart at dawn," he instructed.

Bilbo withdrew. "I'm not leaving."

Thorin's expression softened, nothing dim, but he was not pleased.

"Bilbo is in no condition is to travel. It would be wise," Elrond pressed, "to keep her, unless you wish to see her and your child face the same faith your son did."

Perhaps tonight was a special occasion, he would listen to Elrond and he allowed her to stay while also inviting himself and his companions. He requested rather stiffly, the elves would remove themselves and allow them to come through, which they did. Oin and Bofur were eager to greet her, but Gloin made no motion and Dwalin only grumbled. They shared a bitterness towards staying at Rivendell, but were appealed to have a bed and something more than cram. And to see the old side of their king exposed.

"What is that?"

Thorin came headway, sending the elf - maiden back and almost having her drop the medicine in her hand. Bilbo too found herself stumbling at his approach. He snatched it from her grasp and observed with eyes that had sharpened by a negative wonder.

"It is only a remedy to keep Bilbo's strength up," Elrond interrupted, turning Thorin into a scowl.

"Oin will care of her for now on," he pressed.

Save the dwarf was straying from the darkness that once corrupted him, he was still stubborn and furtive, like any dwarf. It didn't surprise Bilbo, not more than it surprised Elrond and Gandalf, though it was Gandalf who dare fight that stubbornness.

"Spare me from your stubbornness," he said. "Lord Elrond is a far better healer than Master Oin. Bilbo has yet to show any sign of distress. She is perfectly fine, as is your child. I would not cross him if you wish it to stay that way."

Once again he replied with a scowl.

He was not convinced, perhaps because he was still bitter towards Gandalf for interfering in matters that didn't concern him and taking Bilbo across in what he considered, darker territory.

"Thorin, I, I don't mind it. Gandalf is right, I'm much better now," she breathed, a stiff chuckle added to ease the tension. She didn't believe there was benefit in her words, only try and certain failure.

And yet they didn't.

He replied with his fingers slinking beneath her locks and a, "Fine, my love."

A relief came over all of them. They didn't know why Thorin was more moved by any of Bilbo's words, though there was question it was out of guilt. A mental question.

And Bilbo wonder it too. True, she had gained a uncertain respect, but after all the events she didn't believe he would heed her voice. His approach towards her was always appealing and yet confusing. Once the elf - maiden and left, and Elrond and Gandalf soon to follow she expected him to do the same. He lingered. And she found conversation in it, at least.

"Thank you," she said.

"There is no need. There was more assurance in your words than any wizard or elf lord," he retorted.

She chortled, lowly, somewhat unsure how to respond. Her eyes shifted off of the window she had been gazing into. "I, I appreciate that. Thank you, again."

He nodded.

"Thorin….I need to tell you something." And now she found something to say. "I am sorry for leaving you. But I had no other choice. And I do not plan to go back to the mountain. I loved you so I can't see you change like that, not again."

"Do not be foolish!" he declared. "You have nothing to apologize for. I have led you on dangerous roads. I have risked your safety for my own purpose. So do not apologize, my love."

Bilbo's mind rebound from the statement, unable to register them. "What about the mountain?"

"I don't know yet. But know it has no equal worth of you and our child."

"You...you're not going back?"

"It is my grandfather's legacy. My home, for that I just cannot leave it."

"But….I left my home for you," she said in a mutter, if she intended for her words to be unheard.

But he heard them and he reacted the way she imagined. "It was by your choosing you stayed."

She interrupted the conversation with a pause. A retort was on the tip of her tongue and yet she could not produce it any more than mentally. It was eternity before she said with a mustered courage, "And what do you chose?"


	18. Chapter 18

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* * *

"Have you decided?" she asked, her tone low from fear. She cast a naked eye to him, unable to read his expression.

It tore at her heart to know he had yet chose, obviously that he had not chose her. She wouldn't be blunt to him about it, but she had expected the answer was to stay with her. The choice wasn't as secure as if he was to return the mountain. He certainly wouldn't want to be living around hobbits the rest of his life and what the others would say to her when she returned. There was already a good deal of shame she was bringing back. And he was sacrificing his home and his title.

But this was his child. And she had long endured his behavior and ways to keep his mood at bay. She jeopardized her life and her reputation for him and she was not going to forget that. He was far more in her debt she ever was.

"There is much to think about," he said.

Her forced smile dimmed.

"You are worth more than vast wealth," he said, slinking his hand into her and gently squeezing. "But I am a son of Durin. The throne is mine to claim…."

She shuffled in her chair, acquiring an annoyance from those reasons.

"Bilbo…." he breathed, releasing her hand for his finger to slip under her chin and raise her head.

"Thorin," said Dwalin, moving forth but never stepping in the room. "Word from Dain."

There he was, always coming to interrupt.

Her sigh was low as he shifted onto his feet and followed his guard to the corridor. They went no farther than the distance in which she couldn't make out their words. They were whispers and mutters, intentionally meant to be secret.

She could not blame the nature of dwarves and their mysterious ways. She was far too burdened to be involved in secret keeping. Thorin's behavior was suffocating her patience, to be rid of him for a moment was a time she savoured.

"Thorin, we should head back. We have wasted enough time on the halfling," Dwalin declared.

But his king was quick with his retort. "Not until my child is born will I even consider it."

Dwalin's expression grimmed. He was unsure, and therefore unappealed by the answer. Though he would never admit it he grown concerned since Thorin took the throne. To see him returning his state of mind he silently rejoiced. But it wasn't suppose to be like this.

"Thorin," hd pressed.

"No." He shot him a warning stare, before looking back to Bilbo through the slit of the door's frame. She was sunk in her small chair, but beautiful to say the least. "I will not part with them, not again."

Dwalin grumbled to which Thorin didn't respond.

He left, it was the only choice he had. And he made with a slight regret that was almost cleansed at the sight of her.

She dared to ask why he appeared so wounded. "What is it?"

He returned to the position he was in before he was summoned; on one knee, an arched back and eyes set on hers. "Nothing you need to worry about, my love," he reassured.

It wasn't enough, but she knew better than to pry.

He did what she could not.

"Has Elrond given you anything?" he asked.

"Just this morning. It really does help Thorin," she said, responding to that unsettling flare in his eye. "After what happen to Thrandin, I would do anything to make sure our son or daughter live."

"You need not assure me, my love," he breathed as his fingers tangled in her locks.

She never resisted his approach. It eased whatever doubt or fear that still prospered. Yet she still didn't have an answer.

* * *

A moan withdrew him from his sleep. His mind went to his sword, but his hand didn't share its speed. It was good thing for he was not in the presences of danger, but simply a curled up hobbit resting at his side. She winced and whirled around the bed, flattening herself against the mattress that vibrated from under her trembles. For so long her cry went unheard until she felt him shuffle and a relief came over her.

She mustered out his name as he sprung up.

In a quick observation over her, he breathed out, "What is it?"

"I think you should get Gandalf...pray," she said. It was not fear that laced her tone, but a silent bliss.

There was no need to be afraid.

He swung his legs across the bed frame and rouse to his feet. His adrenaline had yet conquered his weariness. He stumbled out, a swiftness slowly traveling to his feet. But his steps were broad and heavy, rapping against the floor, with the sound of them reflecting off the walls. They hummed out a call to the others, who rushed to their king's pants.

"Thorin, what in Durin's name is going on!" Gloin grumbled, being the last to approach but the first to complain.

Brushing close was Oin, now set to serve his purpose.

"Oin, get to Bilbo. Gloin, get him whatever he needs." Thorin's eyes shifted back to Dwalin. "Awake Gandalf."

"What about Lord Elrond?" Bofur asked only to never be given a reply.

Though Elrond was quick to arrive, still fair faced, not burdened by the sudden awakening. And Gandalf came from the rear, an opposite appearance from his companion. They only shared an alarm that was building in the room.

It's effect was close to Thorin, for he was pacing the floor while pounding on all of them with questions. Bilbo's lack of fear should have been held some assurance and maybe it did. Save the fact she was fighting her way through another wave of pain while mustering answers to both his and Gandalf's inquiries, she was fine, if not happy. Upon carrying Thrandin she had accustomed a constant look of death. Her face had descend and her skin was pallid her back arched and her locks dried. Now she was vibrant . Life once again flowed through her as she delivered it.

The challenge would last the whole night with Elrond and Oin instructing her, despite everything they said contradicted the other. And Thorin, whose patients were now deceased, was always hovering over her. She was set to snap. Something most out of character for her, but she was growing anxious and weary. But the feeling quickly dispelled to the feeling of bliss as the pain subsided and she was handed a small bundle.

He had her eyes of blue and Thorin's black locks. For a second she saw Thrandin, only to realise he wasn't.

He was more hobbit than dwarf and it may have been the only reason carrying him was as easy as it was.

Bilbo felt more drawn to him. She did not see him see the accessory to a kingdom, but a child. Her own. Her son. And as Thorin scoped his arm around her and sat on the edge of the bed, viewing their son as he wrestled in her arms, he knew it as well. And they both knew he had made his decision.


	19. Chapter 19

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* * *

Everything seemed immune to failure. Her life wasn't fully planned, but what was was being executed. She would leave in a few months once her health was stable and Thorin would come with. She wanted to settle in Rivendell for longer, but he would not hear of it. They were already debating on whether or not their son would be granted a dwarf or hobbit name. She was tempted to give him the benefit of the doubt, he was sacrificing his home, which Dwalin, Gloin, Bofur and Oin were not responding to well. They held off on the vast amble back to Erebor and sending word to Dain of Thorin's decision, despite Thorin's constant effort.

They were not the only ones who cast a disapproving eye.

Elrond's protest may have stayed unspoken, but Gandalf was not as timid. Not until Bilbo was alone, assembling her belongings. he found a way for his words to be heard.

"You've come to tell me to stay, haven't you?" She didn't need to ask. She was only wasting time.

"Have you not thought about this father?" he asked with a lazy wave of the arms. "You will be cast out the moment you return! The Shire is not welcoming of other races, especially not of dwarves. You are risking much to bring Thorin, much more with his child."

She was content, despite his harsh perspective. Though she had pondered his thoughts long before he said them, she had found a vast deal of confidence in her choice. It was manipulated by her love for Thorin, but that didn't matter. Not now.

"I don't need your permission," she said, softly. "I know the consequences and I'm not afraid to bare them." She produced a smile as said, "I have allowed you to make my choices, I allowed you to whisk me off out of my home, and now I ask you to allow me to follow my choice. Whatever it maybe."

"Bilbo, I have a very bad feeling about this," he advised. "Those halls are Thorin's birthright. As is your son."

"I won't let him go back," she protested, her eyes peering to her son drifting into his sleep. He wrestled in his blanket and cooed as dreams took him, not burdened by the dilemma revolving around him. "Especially not with my son. That sickness...it will destroy Thorin. And my child after that. They are my responsibility and I love them too much to stand by."

He showed a hint of sympathy, enough to reach her eye level with a crouched back. As he spoke, his voice was low and his words slow. "There are things in this world, my dear girl, we cannot control. We only lose ourselves when we try. The sickness that thrives in Thorin is something you cannot save him from." He returned to a proper stance, while clearing his throat. "Convenience Thorin to return to Erebor. I will find a way to get you and your son back to the Shire."

"Is there really no other way?" she asked. The thought put her in a prospering dismay.

They both knew it was wasn't, but it was the only reasonable option.

"It is the only way for your son. And yourself."

"He won't let me leave."

"Perhaps….And perhaps not."

Her laugh lines were exposed as her brow scrunched and her face whirled. She felt a deeper meaning to his words, one she could not detect yet. She wanted to know and she dared to ask only to be cut off.

"There is not much time to spare. Thorin is in the garden. Find him and whatever you do, do not let him tell you differently."

"Gandalf, I -"

"You have proven far more courage than you think, my dear Bilbo. Do not start doubting it now."

Hardly moved by his words, Bilbo was steady to leave. Her pace brought a subtle annoyance to the wizard, but one he could empathize with. It was a pity to watch her be dragged along and controlled by so many for so long. He was ashamed to contribute to it. But he would not have done this other than her safety, he assured himself.

Upon reaching the garden, Bilbo embraced the sight leading to her doom. She felt the branches and the flowers pass against her fingertips and the air twirling in her nostrils, releasing a burst of beautiful scents. Sun rays pierced through the openings above, kissing her locks and warming her face. The stones against her feet were sleek and kind to her bare feet, unlike most of the roads she had traveled on. Everything that fall into view was a piece of beauty built upon each other that marveled this elvish haven. She savoured it.

A magic rested on her heart. It had always been there since she had arrived, but only now did she acknowledge it. For it was there when she needed it the most. Her fear in approaching seemed to dim and it's what strengthened every step. Her eyes were aimed to the floor, because despite the apprehension gradually subsiding, she could not face him.

He made it far more difficult with his quick pace stepping towards her.

"What are you doing up? You should be resting. There is much too do and we need we need all the strength we can," he motivated.

"I needed to talk with you," she begun. Her trembles started. She could conceal her weariness of this constant dispute, the demands of everyone else, and she could control her dismay, enough to get by. But with his hands now bond to her arms, empathizing every motion that ran through her.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and delicate. He firme his clutch wrapped around her arms and felt her quivers run through him. "You're trembling."

She was unable to find a reply. She couldn't deny it, even though she wanted to. She had already made it obvious she was carrying a great deal of bad news and not being dim he was quick to realize what it was. He inquired further in hopes for it not to be true, and yet he already knew.

"Do you think…" she begun only to interrupt herself with a clear of the throat. "...Do you think, maybe we should wait? You have traveled far for the mountain. I can't ask you leave it behind for me."

"And you don't have to. I leave with you for our son," he said, confidently. His words were soothing and yet, agonizing. Silently he was enabling her resistance. She had to fight this, save she didn't want to. She wanted to proceed with prior plans. She wanted her old home back - she could only fret on what it might have become - with him and their son. The past would be kept hidden in their minds and with time it would grow dim and the resentment she held would subside.

Yet it could never be that simple.

She couldn't live with the guilt knowing Thorin lost all he had reclaimed for her. Or the constant lectures from Gandalf. Or the chance of having their son be consumed by greed.

"But Bag End isn't meant to be your home…" she begun and gulped down the lump in her throat. "I don't know what I was thinking, when I said I didn't want to go back. I...should of. Thorin, I have to…."

"Have you been talking to the wizard?" he asked.

Despite her efforts, she lacked subtlety. She avoided his eyes, attempted to escape from his grasp and tried to get words out from her sudden dried mouth. She could only let her heavy lids descend and allow the real world around her be replaced with a fabricated delusion. Her hobbit hole, with a fire already lit, casting a warmth over the home. A good book in hand, some seed cake and a cup of coffee on the side. It brought a content that Thorin was quick to shut down.

"Don't be deceived," he warned. "He is only trying -"

"But he is right," she protested, her tone low. She hated even the thought of crossing him. "YOu can't give away the mountain. Thorin, think of all you have went through. What I went through. What we all went through. You cannot forget that. I am not worth giving it up. And our son, he can't…." She began nibbling at her lips, trying to find a way to state her words without insulting his bloodline. She could never be blunt, no matter how hard she tried to be at the appropriate moment and she wished not to fume Thorin up.

"What would become of him?" His tone sullied.

"I would take him back, to Bag End and when he is old enough to understand, I would tell him, about you, about the mountain and let him decide."

"You would steal him from me!"

"Steal him? No. He should know about...about...about what you went through. About what might happen if he takes that throne."

"You think I would let that happen…."

"It happened to you," she shot back with a shuffle. "You can't deny a sickness comes from that mountain, with no empathy for it's victims. Our son will die, just like your grandfather, by his own greed if we you take him back. At least now, he can make the choice for himself."

Although she was not at a lost for words, somewhat satisfied with the ones she already spoke and yet somewhat regretful as well, Thorin was ready to speak. He made a rapid approach, but fortunately for Bilbo's sake, he was interrupted before he could make a noise. Not by her words or anyone else's, simply by the presence of Gandalf, moving forth slowly, only lurking for the time. Meeting Thorin's eyes and catching a glimpse of her wounded stare, the wizard felt cornered. He had wished to remain unseen and though he thought he had paced himself perfectly, he had no other choice but to come closer.

"You told her this." Thorin walked into speech. "This was your doing."

Gandalf found no reason to protest.

"Of course it was," he agreed.  
"This doesn't involve you. You have interfered enough," growled Thorin, peering back to Bilbo. "You are in league to take my son."

"Don't be a fool, Thorin Oakenshield, if you can help it," the wizard retorted. He was not interested in feuding with the dwarf. No doubt they didn't have the time to do so. "Lord Elrond and I have already prepared` plans. to take Bilbo back to the Shire. You are not prohibited to follow if you want to keep her and your son safe."

Thorin's stiff expression never loosen, but he gave no reply.

"If you at least heed what Lord Elrond and I have to say," he begun.

And much like Thorin, Gandalf too found himself interrupted after being wrapped up in conversation. Although his reply was a roll of the eyes and a whirl around to Bofur, his eyes sending off an appalled vibe, while Thorin it came to him as a relief.

"Oin was looking for you," Bofur begun, eyes set to Bilbo in attempt to avoid the wizard's stare. He never intended to intervene. "The babe's up."

She passed a wounded stare to Thorin before picking up her steps, eager to depart from the tension. Her hand brush quickly across his shoulder, unsure why, perhaps out of sympathy or just to try to calm him. She felt somewhat of a pity for him deep down, one far more for herself, but this must have burdened him just as much as it did her. The sudden ache in her slowed her steps, enough to hear the conversation continue on, yet she never found the ability to look back.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello!**

**Thank you AliR, ChaosRhea, RoseWithThorns, and booksarefun2274 for either following or favoriting! **

**aliena wyvern - Eeh, can't really blame you on that one! Thank you for the review :)**

**Thank you to everyone who has follow, read, reviewed or even favoriting. You guys are some of the nicest people I"ve met on here and I owe each one of you for giving my story a chance. I'll be honest, I read the Lord of the Rings so long ago you're probably end up seeing some flaws and inaccuracy in this chapter. I'm so sorry about any you find, along with any errors or OOCs. Please don't be afraid to make mention of them. Constructive criticism is always welcomed! Thank you! :)**

* * *

"You're cousin Drogo is dead. As is his wife."

Bilbo winced and shuffled in her chair as he rested his arm on her shoulder.A quick relief came over her that was replaced with dread as he resumed his words.

"There was a rumor they had a child, a son no less."

"You want her to lie," Thorin growled. Where she could control her dismay, he couldn't shadow his fumes.

"It is the only option you have left. Unless you wish for your son to face the same sickness that drove your grandfather mad, along with yourself, you will to listen to what he has to say," he said, his words stern but his tone gentle. He cast a stare to him and in responses he scowled.

He loathed the mentioning of his grandfather, not because of lack of honor, but for the dark memories of the illness that flowed through their blood. And he hated even more when it was an elf no less who spoke about it. He had no right.

Thorin looked back to her, struggling to stay content.

He pitied her, not as much as he did for himself,

"Do you think they'll believe me?" she finally asked, finding herself finally relevant in the conversation

"I can't be sure. But it is better than leaving behind all you have worked for," Gandalf said and glanced to him.

"And if...this isn't what we want?" she breathed.

A silence begun to build, for no one had the answer. Despite the greatest effort out of both of them, she never seemed convinced. She had her own selfish reasons and yet out all of them she was the only one with a reason to be selfish. It wounded him to see her slouched in the chair, trying stay collective and hold her emotions at bay. She awaited patiently for an answer she didn't want.

"I am sorry." He begun steady and cautious. "But there is no other way. You must keep what is rightfully you if you do not want those years of your life to go in vain. It is yours and only yours to protect."

"As is my son," he interrupted.

"Who also belongs to her," Gandalf retorted. "And if you wish for him to be rivened by darkness and greed, then go, take him and rise him without a mother." The silence grew again. "But you know you are not that selfish."

"But she wouldn't be his mother," he said.

Their fumes recided as they shifted their stares back to her, trying to flatten herself against her chair and hide her face from their gaze. She was weary of the constant talking, the everlasting arguments, and someone always putting out their opinion. She had kept herself flat footed on the ground and balanced and no less censored in all of it. Even with the constant pressing of the other, she even praised her newfound ability of staying calm. Not wanting to stir the pot, she only asked, silently, "Can I still name him?"

The prior silence continued with Gandalf exchange stares with both of them. Looking ready to speak up, Gandalf stopped Thorin with his own words. "Well...I see no harm in it."

"What is it?" inquired Thorin.

"Frodo...I wanted to call him Frodo."

()

Thorin's thoughts were focused on a good many things when Bilbo found him. Something held them back from looking upon each other and a strain was on their lips when it came to speaking. Silence seemed soothing, yet useless at the sametime. They both had a great deal of things to say to one another and time was draining away from them. They couldn't delay. No matter how hard they tried.

"I wanted to give you something," she finally said. Her wounded stare passed him by, but lingered in his mind.

"You have given me enough already." His words lacked sincerity but she didn't take it personally.

"No, I have to do this." Her hand slinked into her robe's pocket and with a slight wrestle with the fabric, she pulled out an object hidden in her fist. He looked down and her eyes followed. She had grown keen to being mysterious. She had been around dwarves for too long.

With her free hand she clasped his, then wrapped the second around. "I want you to have this. I know, it may not seem like much, but…"

He retrieved his hand, and cautiously he opened his clutch.

"The seed," he said, a faint peaking through his complexion.

It was contagious to her.

"I want you to plant it and as it grows, you'll think of our son. and how he'll grow and one day you'll see him again," she said, lowly, unable to read his reaction. "And me."

Thorin retook her hands, his fingers circling around her palms and tightening as they met eyes. He paused before he smiled. It was weak and far from convincing, but it was enough for her. She wasn't assured, not yet, yet this would have to do.

"No," silently he denied. "I do not need this. For there is nothing I need to remember you by."

Bilbo reached out for the seed, but he claimed her hand again.

"Nothing could ever make me forget you...and how much I love you."

"I...I love you...I always have….." Her voice slowed and crocked. "And if there was any other way -"

"I know," he said.

Her head began to bow in dismay,

"I am sorry I don't have anything to give you," he said, steadily shaking his head.

"But...you did." She drew in some air, only to release a broad sigh. "You gave me a home. And an adventure. I have not felt like a Took since I was young….And our son. Who I promise you, I will always care for."

"I know," he said, confidently. But his tone was low and doubt was not far from him. All he found to do was pull her in, resting her head against his breast as he firmed their embrace. His lips brushed against her locks in a gentle kiss. The comfort of his clutch was enough, but his kiss was unsatisfying to her. Then again this goodbye was unsatisfying to her.

She expected something more, not a simple hug with her in her grim robes and her greasy locks cling to her cheeks. And not him in pauper clothing, with his beard feeling like it was piercing her face and his trestles sweeping over her eyes. Their story seemed so deep for an ending so distasteful.

"I should probably go," Bilbo slowly started and stepped out of his arms. He seemed miffed by it. "There's a deal of packing to be done.

He nodded despite not agreeing.

Before she turned the corner, though, his voice took her steps to a halt. The escalation of his voice turned her around, finding him striding towards her. "Wait...Here, take this," Thorin demanded and took out an illumination of gold from his pocket.

It would be a lie to say she hadn't forgot of what people might see as a mere trinket. Something had her drawn to it, like flies to flesh. She had acquired a desire to just look upon it, just once was all Bilbo needed.

"I do not know what power it possesses that rivens you the way it has," he begun, observing the ring with a crooked brow.. "But it is yours. A gift I should never have taken. And a token of my gratitude. I am sorry what for this peril I have led you through."

She took it, not letting his words register. Like a disobedient child she snatched it up with a lack of eye contact and no thank you or any words at all. It took a shook of the head to retrieve her mind again. "No...No, no thank you. I was honored, out of all your options, you chose me to help you. I will not forget that. I will not forget any of this."

And she didn't.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hi.**

**Thank you Arianna Le Fay, ****ca186229, kurokazeryuu, NattiB, elle117, Hysteria Rogers, and The Dark Lady55 for either following or favoriting. **

**aliena wyvern - Aw, I'm sorry. Because it was that bad…? Haha, thank you for the review though :)**

**It's the last chapter, finally, right? I'm so sorry to everyone who read this for all the mistakes, OOCs, errors and everything in general. I know I made a lot of mistakes with this story, but you guys cared enough to keep going despite all that. I can't tell you all how thankful I am for that. I've appreciated you all so much and I thank you all for giving me a chance, even though I didn't deserve it. Please, if any of you need anything at all don't be afraid to ask. I owe each one of you so much that it kills me to know I may never be able to repay you. Because of you guys I had hope, not just in my writing. So thank you, thank so much :)**

* * *

The journey drew on for months, yet it felt short. Bilbo had dread returning, shamefully for her own dignity and reputation. She hadn't thought about Thorin for a few weeks, or at least tried. For now she had to set her thoughts on other things, things that wouldn't provoked that dismay she was fighting with. While it seemed impossible, taking care of Frodo seemed to occupy her enough. Had it not been for those black curls identical to his father's, she may have forgotten about him.

"The Shire is a league up ahead," Gandalf said upon their arrival to the border of Bag End. He dismounted his steed. Bilbo followed the same action with her pony, but far more steady with her satchel on her back and Frodo in her arms.

"And this is where you leave me, isn't it?" she observed.

"It seems so," he said, lowly. "Now, remember, make no mention of Thorin or the mountain or..."

He rambled yet her mind wandered. She was already overwhelm and why he dared to stee if he could stretch her limits any longer she couldn't say. Even when retrieved from thought from her son squirming in her arms and glanced up to see Gandalf prolonging his rules.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

Slowly she nodded and stumbled out a shy 'yes'.

He looked off, unconvinced. He couldn't wait any longer. "You are a fine woman, my dear Bilbo. That is why I have no bout you will him when you are certain it's the right time." His eyes peaked out from the brim of his hat, first onto Frodo than her. "Do not think this is the end of your journey. I will bring word of Thorin whenever I can."

"Will you keep him safe?" she asked, finding more comfort in the word safe than sane.

"I will try," Gandalf replied, prior to a pause.

Bilbo nodded, unassured. Yet the effort was enough to express her gratitude. "Thank you."

Their farewells afterwards were swift with Gandalf practically ushering her off. Just as well, there wasn't anything more to keep her lingering, no doubt she wanted to. She was sad to watch him go and angry in a way.

After several strides down the narrowing paths her feet stopped and she almost lost balance. It would be a lie to say she had thought about this farther. All the emotions, the fear,the words she would say when she fall into her neighbor's and they approached with their questions, deep down the anticipation, she had kept the thought of them confined. She could have stood there, embracing everything the scenery before she entered into the uncertainty.

But Frodo was bouncing around, him too sharing her weariness if not more. He cooed and whimpered, making her feel all too guilty, enough to pick up her steps. It felt familiar, not the countryside or the laughter coming from the Shire or the aroma of a feast in the air, but venturing into the unknown. Her steps were lagging, different from the day she rushed out of her door after a visit from Gandalf pressing her to go meet the dwarves at the Green Dragon inn, but similar to her slow pace upon shuffling into the mountain when it was occupied by Smaug. Like that night she continued to tell herself she could do this. She had ambled a whole summer away through abandoned roads, ill forests, mountain paths, all with thirteen dwarves who were no less stubborn or pigheaded dwarves could be. She faced famished trolls and found herself in the middle of a stone giant battle. She had encountered elves, dined with a man of high rank, riddled with a dragon, fought in a battle against dwarves, elves, orcs, men and eagles, watched her beloved nephew and her friends die, and bred with a swarf.

While she was fearful through it all, this had her trembling and slowing her steps. Facing a dragon and all the other things she had met with the past few years seemed so petty right now. Just the quick thought of her past neighbors crowding her with their constant inquiries sapped her breath from her.

She could not turn back, nothing was there for her if she did. Then again, it felt like nothing was waiting for her up a head. Perhaps a death brought on by fear and annoyance, but nothing worthy. .

"Come on, Frodo," she whispered as her lips brushed across the top of his head. "We can do this...We can…"

The water crashing down at the mill was growing closer.

"...do," she breathed and begun to blink.

Across the once barren land was a small hamlet, looking as if it meant to be hidden. That did not, however, spare the escalating sound of laughter and gossip. She cringed at what she remember Lobelia' voice to sound like. No doubt her voice was amongst the crowd. Whatever words delivered from her mouth brewed mayhem. She could only imagine what gossip came from her absence.

"...this." She glanced back down, meeting his blue eyes that enabled that faint confident. It felt familiar in a bittersweet way.

"We can," she reassured him, though selfishly it was for herself. She pecked him on the head again, producing enough calmness to go on.

With every step the fear begun to sap. This wasn't worth her worry. They might not even see her jaunting through, with her head down, but her eyes sometime peering in the corner. It was easy to tell herself and ironically it was easy to believe. Feeding on her own lies seemed to quicken the pace to where the Great Mill was in view and the properly cut grass that made up the houses' roofs was peaking through. Home was a few strides away and no one had yet to lay eyes on her. Though she didn't acknowledge, a part of her was miffed they didn't. She wondered if she wanted to be noticed. Save questions, a few 'hellos' or 'where have you've been' would have been enough for her.

Maybe it was for the best, this journey was long and longer if she stopped and greet everyone. She hadn't been caught, yet and her hobbit - hole had fallen in sight. Another would be dedicated for talking.

She had become overly confident.

She was halfway up the meandering path and as much as she wanted to mentally absorb all the sightings she had forgotten about, she could see some Gamgees tending to their potato plants. She winced every time they looked up for a brief moment. She was so paranoid about them she didn't notice Lobelia Sackville - Baggins passing by. And she wouldn't have noticed her, she was too set on traveling to the market and flaunting her wealth and soaking up all the gossip she needed, had it not been the sudden whimper produced by her soon.

Lobelia's face tightened and crunch with them laying in sight. The insults were already in ponder for Bilbo and yet she found, herself more surprised than miffed as her cousin squealed out, "Who are you?"

That nasally voice haunted her childhood. She couldn't resist a cringe.

"Why you know perfectly well who I am, Lobelia Sackville - Baggins!" she declared.

And traveling with his wheelbarrow down the hill, attracted by the squabble was one of the Old Tooks. "Why hello there Miss Baggings! Why….how did you get back!"

Bilbo?" Labideous shrilled. Only one could play such a performance of stupidity.

Now the Gamgees were head up and the Brandybucks were peering out from their window.

Bilbo felt heat cast over her. She wanted attention, but one far from this. "Yes, Bilbo Baggins. Your cousin. And….that is my coat. Why...why are you wearing my coat?"

"Well, being presumed dead. and all," he begun.

"Dead!" she cried.

"...your things were auctioned off. Your estate is, however, still being betted on. You could always wager if you like."

"I will not bid on my own property! That is absurd!"

"Well if you think so," he said, unsure how to answer.

She was surprised, while satisfied to find the lack of attention on Frodo. Not to say she wanted it on her. Being tangled in this conversation had made her even forget that, until Old Gamgee leaned in and caught Frodo's fingers in a gentle grasp. "Well, who's this?

Bilbo gulped down before her answer. "This is Frodo….my...my nephew."

The words felt bitter and evil on her tongue. And so untrue.

Her heart sank to say them, and her thoughts froze. She thought she had grown accustomed to it with Gandalf constantly saying it. She had even told it to herself mentally. But now with the words out loud, it succumbed her.

"My nephew. Drogo's...son." She tried to register the words, yet her mind wouldn't allow her to. Set to act rashly by lack of comprehension, she excused herself with a shy pardon and a quick nod. She resumed her steps, drawing him close and concealing his face into her chest from the silently judging world. They seemed tangled in their own conversation now, giving her a perfect escape, one that she was eager to take. Though she had her back turned to their narrowing eyes and a mind set towards home, she couldn't avoid their exchange.

"I never knew Primula's son survived?" said old Gamgee.

The scowl prior to Lobelia's answer made Bilbo gulp.

"Neither did I. Just as well, she is far too old and lonely to have her own."

And Bilbo was lonely. Shuffling into her bare, unoccupied home, deprived of its furnishing and comfort, her soul felt like it was wandering in the dark and her mind in confinement. Even with her embrace tightening on Frodo, love felt so far from here. So steadily she set him to the flood, allowing him to crawl around while she advanced through the halls, the emptiness modeling her emotions. She looked to her walls, the paintings and portraits that once hung forlorn or tossed on the floor. And then her eyes shifted to the floor, where an empty frame rested at her feet. Bending down she caught a fleet reflection of herself through the glass and a vision that fulfilled her.

* * *

"Come here, Frodo," she said, her voice reflecting off the walls. She had retrieved and bought back enough of her belongings to kill the vacant vibe, but one thing remained.

Frodo made his approach known with his low giggles and thuds as he stumbled over his lack of balance. She admired, while wondered about her son's strength to resist the tears with every tumble and bruise. It didn't seem likely she gave it to him. Neither those icy, yet elegant eyes that smiled back at her as she drew him up.

Mounted on the wall, face to face with both of them was the once abandoned frame and in it it held a drawing. He reached out for it, his petit fingers tracing the ridges and bumps sketched on the paper.

"That's Erebor," she whispered. "One day you'll see it. Because that's home."


	22. AN

I know author notes are usually overlooked, I mean I'm the same way sometimes. And because of that I know not many people will read this, if any at all. Maybe that's for the best. But to whoever does read this, I want to thank you. A part of me knows I shouldn't say this and a part of me is afraid to put it all down. Yet a bigger part of me knows I have to. If I don't say this, I won't be able to bare it.

You see, I started writing when I was younger. Like many, I wrote to escape. I had lost one of my parents and my other soon became mentally unstable. She never received help, despite not knowing how to take care of herself. She didn't know how to dress herself or bathe or cook or work a job or even write or read. She would be overwhelmed by stress she would begin to scream and throw stuff and hit. She told me she wished she never had me and wished I was dead and she hated me. She would hit me, smack me, kicked me and pulled my hair until I cried or bled. And then I would take care of her. I was twelve.

While it hurt, while it made days feel so dark, I begun to have anxiety attacks at school. They were uncontrollable and they would just take me to the point I would just begin to cry. Kids thought there was something wrong with me, they thought I was weird, so they wouldn't talk with me. The only time they did was to ask me if I was retarded or what the hell was wrong with me. I sat alone, never having anyone, never fitting in. And then again, how could I?

Most days I was alone.

I had always been into fantasy, I guess because it was better than reality. Anything, movies, books, even video games, I loved. I developed this unhealthy obsession with this video game. I don't know why, but as long as I played it, the things happening, they didn't seem to matter. As long as I played it, I didn't have to be that loser who kids burnt with a hot glue gun as a joke or the daughter my mom never wanted. I was the person I wanted to be, but never would be.

As dumb or as silly as it may sound, I remember there was this one character, I don't know why, but I loved him. Not as a simple fictional crush, but something more.

I started to write, to escape deeper. I wrote fan fictions on this game and most of the time he was a main character. Most stories was about a character, alone, unloved and forgotten, believing they would never be enough, but they fall into this fantasy world and then they go on an adventure and meet him and they realize the dark days aren't forever. Cliche, I know, but I guess it's because I thought if I wrote it enough or believed it enough, it would be true someday. Someday I would wake up somewhere else and go on an adventure and meet someone who would love me for me and my family and my school and the pain they brought on, they wouldn't last forever. Someday it would get better. But it never got better.

I use to post some of them on here, because people for once thinking I was good enough, it made me...happy. It made me feel alive. I suddenly didn't feel alone. Whenever I came home from school, instead of crying because the kids spread rumors about me, I could just play the game and then write. Or when my mom was having her episodes, all I had to do was write. Now it felt like my writing had even more purpose. I know now writing isn't about being liked or a number of followers, but at the time I was desperate to be liked. Having reviews and followers, even friends, I felt like what I was doing was right. It felt like I found my place.

While this doesn't seem to make any sense or seem relevant, it is.

I had begun another story and for once, it was popular. The most renowned out of all of them. It was about this character of course. Nobody ever told me they loved it, but they liked it and at the time, that was enough. It was just enough. I didn't have to be anything more.

I met this girl, she was nineteen at the time and I was thirteen. I remember her mentioning her boyfriend, her family, her friends, her prom, even her trips to England. I imagined she was beautiful, if not perfect, because that's what her life was. She had two parents, who loved her and friends who were always there for her and the ability just to...live, really. She knew what it was like to be happy, to never be afraid to wake up or talk or look at herself in the mirror. She never had to be ashamed. She never felt so lost in the dark the only way she felt alive was through things that would never come true.

It would be a lie to say I wasn't envious of her. It's funny how connected and emotional we can feel about people we have never met. We talked and a part of me thought she was my friend. And deep down I hated her just as well. In time for different reasons.

She loved this story of mine, well at least that's what she said. A part of me doubt that, because of what she did next. A few days later I found a story by her, it had the same plot of mine, the same scenes, the same events, the first chapter were identicals, save one thing. Her writing, it was beautiful. And it was loved.

Those readers, the people I called friends, suddenly they forgot about me. Suddenly I wasn't enough. They read her version and praised her and told her how much they loved hers. It may seem odd and petty. Why should I have even cared? It wasn't the best idea, it was far from original, and it was just a fan fiction. And it was. That might have been what she saw, along with her readers. But I didn't see it like that.

There was reviews, telling her that her story was better. That it didn't matter who created the idea, it just matter who wrote it the best. She was the best. And it killed me. I had never been good enough, or worth anything until I wrote. Reading those reviews, I thought back to all the pain, all the words I had been exposed to, all the dark memories writing had shield me from, and it dragged me back into the dark. It dragged me back into the emptiness. Suddenly, I didn't have anywhere to go. It felt like that game and writing, it's silly, but it felt like it had betrayed me. It was no different from everything else I had lost.

I asked her to take it down, but why would she? It was her first story and already she had fourty followers, where I only had thirteen. Why would she get rid of her victory? Why would she get rid of my defeat? Stupidly I told her everything. I told her what writing had done for me. Maybe, I thought, she would understand. Then again, how she could? She didn't, but instead told her readers. It escalated so quickly. The next day I had reviews and private messages from her readers calling me a loser, a retard, a nut bag, immature, a freak, an idiot and they told me I shouldn't be angry that I was a retard who couldn't write and someone was better than me. They told me I deserved what I got. They told me if I was their kid they would beat me too. They kept telling me she was better than me and how my writing was awful and I should be committed. And maybe they were right. I was crazy, because I kept believing in things that weren't real because I didn't want to face the truth. I was a loser. I deserved all the pain and all the lost. But there was one thing, one word that I never wanted to hear. Failure. Til then I didn't think I was. But every time I looked at her reviews, her numbers of followers, those messages, there was nothing to disprove it. I was a failure.

And suddenly writing, even playing that game, I couldn't muster enough strength to even try. When I wrote I remembered those reviews, and all those people who watched me fall and didn't even care. Those people who I even called friends. Those people who turned their backs to me because I wasn't enough. And when I played that game, when I saw him, I saw my failure. So I stopped writing and playing and went back into the dark. I went back to the anxiety attacks, the bullying, the abuse, the nights of crying, the emptiness, unable to get out of bed and the pain. I was more alone than I had ever been. Whoever is still reading this, you must think it's dumb, you must think I'm insane. I was crying over something so stupid, something a normal person could just get over if not care at all.

But those things, they were my last hope. And now, now they were gone. They were stolen from me from someone who I thought was my friend.

She had sixty - nine followers when I left. Sixty - nine people who loved her. I could only imagine at the time how amazing that must have been, to already have such an amazing life but then to succeed like that.

There was a day in December, I was home and what had happened was just haunting me. Nothing could occupy my mind no matter how hard I tried. So I decided to go to the movie theater. I don't know why, but I wanted to get out. Nothing good was out, well not that drew me in, save The Hobbit. I still had that love for fantasy, but I never saw the first movie and didn't know if I would like it or not. I gave it a chance. And I'm glad I did. I loved it, for so many reasons, but one of them was because that character I had loved, the one from the game, the man who voiced him, it's funny but he was in it and his characters were identical to one another. When I saw him, I saw my second chance.

I came back home and wrote for the first time in a long time. And I wrote about it. I wrote about him.

I post a few stories and failed most of them, until this one. Because of each of you. Like that day, each one of you gave me a chance.

So SadicaDestruction, Wraven, SoManyRhosgobelRabbits, aliena wyvern, MYSTERYGEEK, SeaGoddessOfStarlight, SakuraDragomir, maximum ride fang1995, Decepticon Chick, Prismatic Lollipops, Pixelshadow, WarriorsSoul7, LadyLucy1990, rain ravinlin, mangaloverize, camicarnage, LoverShadowGirl, Butterfly1993, Paxl, Bunny's daughter, Leila Aldis, Lizzie63293, thegirlandherpen, Percabeth Jackson, Serena SilverMoon, ShinigamiSeniade, KerryResidentOfEarth, griffindork93, Estelwing, ace1014, Philomel Magica, wolfblade17, Haley - Belle, Morgase, Halogien, IceSnowQueen, NearlyHeadlessCrane, Thorin'sOne4Eva, gaeaapril07, mis8720, Bloody Gale Reaper, I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven, I love cute things, eichazin1502, Demetra, Karana92, Kristal de Iris, mistyElk0, Hotaru-oneesan, Edien, Moira Weasley, , Kelwtim2spar, Constant Hangover, Mantarnia, Dark-Light-Devil-666, Annika Sparks, RozaLove, cococamper, midnight205, Jinx1223, Earane Telrunya, MidlightDream, Thorin'sChild110, lady necromancer, hiddenshade knownwitch, AnimeOtakuBara, Alonia 143, Fire and Ash, ALIASMOTH-gothic wonder, Irishmadhatter3, MissKim2b, lectrice en herbe, animeluvr4everndalwayz2014, alphageek, Illusion of Maya, Just4Me, Kaoru Anderson, DD, likarian, elle117, A Very Desperate Reader, JustAnotherGirl94, , katiehorses, 666mewmew, alexma, H.F. Quinzel, Dragonemperess, dearreader, DearChibico, kodaful1, Dantae Ophydain, AndromedaS, Devil Dragon Angel, shadewatcher, Dame Marianne, dreamerskype1, Leafpool 16985, Angel of Change, xXNightSkyXx, DyingDemon, Vampire, Dragon Fairy, Theeaglesarehere, ThilboBagginshield54, The Black Widow, MarthaRRLeBlanc, firefoxxe, Shiorifox32, MSU82, Supra-Nova, Yufa-Takeero, Torina A, witchrose, kinastar9561, ThaliaHuntressGrace, GoldenBookDragon, , AllthepointstoSeverusSnape, Landydou, AliR, ChaosRhea, RoseWithThorns, booksarefun2274, Arianna Le Fay, ca186229, kurokazeryuu, NattiB, elle117, Hysteria Rogers, The Dark Lady55, Borys68, Guest, and Guest Reviewer, thank you. All of you have done for me something I cannot repay. But I will always try. I wish I could show each one of you the gratitude I have, and I wish I could give each one you something more. Know that if any of you need anything at all, please don't ever hesitate to ask. I owe you all so much and I'm so sorry I can never give you what you've given me. Each one of you gave me back what I lost. That emptiness and pain that weighed me down, it doesn't exist anymore. Because of each of you.

I know my story is in a desperate need of editing and my writing isn't the best, but all of you gave it a chance. You looked pass the thousands of errors and mess ups, and believed in it, even when I couldn't. Had you not, I don't really know if that pain from what happened would have ever left.

Each one of you will always be in my debt. And I will be thankful forever for what each one of you have done for me. You gave me a reason to write again. You guys showed me, while I'm far from the best, while I'm still a loser and stupid and all the other things, I just might not be a failure. I can live again, no longer in the dark. I don't have to be afraid. I don't have to be alone. I don't have to give up. Because of you.

And lastly, I want to thank Hailey. I know you'll never read this and you've probably forgotten me and what you did. You see, I can't forget. I wanted to, until now I tried everything to. But I don't want to. Not anymore. It's funny, but a part of me believes you are the one I should thank the most. Because had it not been for you, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have met the great people I have. I wouldn't have found what I have. The things I found, they mean so much to me, it's hard to believe, but if I ever had to, I would go back. I would go back and fall in love with that game. I would write when my mom hit me or when I came home with pizza sauce in my hair or messages telling me to go die from school. I would post it on here. I would watch you take it. I would watch everyone fall in love with your version while I'm cast aside. I would cry all the nights because I thought I was a failure. I would try to fight it all again, despite knowing you had already won. And I would let you and your readers call me those names and tell me those things. I would do it all over again, if it was going to make me go to the theater on my worst day and see him again and fall in love with something all over again. I would do it all over again if it meant I would end up writing this and all the stories that ended up failing. And if it meant I would be able to meet some of the greatest, selfless, most caring people I have ever met who deserve my eternal thanks. Because they made it worth it.


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